Falling Snow
by LesMiserables24601
Summary: Katniss, in the 74th Hunger Games, never pulled out the berries. There was no rebellion, and the Capitol still reigns. But something is shaking Panem. President Snow is dead, a seed is growing, and dark secrets form. Let the 125th Hunger Games begin!
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

The door to the study creaked softly on its hinges. The decrepit hinges had long since been oiled, though they were supposed to be regularly. But president Snow was old, and many things passed him

"Jonathan…is that you?"

Snow was sitting back in his burgundy velvet armchair, eyes closed, hands on his lap. President snow coughed and looked up. "Did you bring my dinner?"

Jonathan approached his father's armchair. "I'm here dad," he responded placidly, his breath heavy and short. Something glinted in his hand.

"Did you bring my food?"

"No," Jonathan said calmly. "You won't be needing it."

"Nonsense! I'm hungry, tired and cranky. I want my dinner!"

Old age and a crippled body had done nothing to quell Snow's internal fire. He stared at Jonathan, cold fury in his snakelike eyes.

"Don't worry dad. I brought you some fresh roses. They're coming up beautifully this spring."

"Yes, " mumbled Snow in his armchair. "They certainly are."

Jonathan set the vase brimming with roses on the black table opposite of his Snow's chair.

"Smell them dad." Jonathan urged his father. "I know you love roses, and these have a wonderful scent."

President Snow, having quite forgotten about his lost dinner, bent over and sniffed them. The fresh, fragrant smell filled his nose, and President Snow smiled in pleasure.

Then there was something cold and sharp on his neck.

"Son?" Snow said, puzzled.

"Shhhh…" Jonathan whispered. "Everything's going to be all right. I'm here."

"Jonathan, what are you-"

There was a long, sharp pain across his neck, and President Snow fell back into his velvet armchair.

He died with the smell of blood and roses in his nostrils.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The fresh spring rain pounds the roof as I stare out the transparent glass window, an old and frayed blanket wrapped around my body. I watch the rain fall and splatter on the muddy ground, while behind me the twins, Isabelle and Phinish, engage in a ferocious staring contest. I have to smile in spite of myself as they start to argue over their game, so trivial in my mind. But to their six year old mindsets, that contest is the world. At least for today.

"You blinked," Phinish states. "I win."

"No," Isabelle cries back. "You blinked before I did. You cheated!"

"You're lying. You _always_ lie."

"I do not!'

"See? You did it again!'

Isabelle throws herself on her brother and starts to beat him in the arm.

"Take it back! I said, take it back!"

Phinish shrieks and wails in pain, but remains obstinate about eating his words. Isabelle jumps on him again before I can intervene.

"Take it BACK!" she roars, pounding on Phinish's small, six year old body.

"Stop it! Isabelle, get off Phinish now!" I cry over the screams. Isabelle, instead of complying, only beats her brother harder. Before she draws blood, I run over and remove Isabelle from Phinish, who immediately stops crying and wipes his knee casually, as if he had never been screaming bloody murder.

"Hiriam, let me go!'

Isabelle wriggles in my unwavering hands, writhing and twisting.

"No. Mother told you and Phinish on your best behavior. Now, you're going to your room."

Isabelle wails and tries to shift the blame to Phinish.

"Well, _Phinny_ should have to go to his room too. He called me a liar!"

To Isabelle's constant delight, Phinish hated to be called Phinny. Immediately after she says this, Phinish yells like a steam engine at the top of his lungs.

"Both of you just shut up!" I finally yell over Phinish and Isabelle. "Phinish, Isabelle, to your rooms NOW."

At this order, the twins practically foam at the mouth, and begin shouting and yelling and screaming out reasons why this was unfair, that mother and father wouldn't have done this to them, etc.

In the middle of the cacophony of screeching, the television set blinks on. I turn around and see the female reporter who is always doing the broadcasts. On the top of the screen, a flashing red bar reads, BREAKING NEWS!

I turn to the twins again, growing increasingly irritated at their behavior. Usually I'm fine with kids, but Isabelle and Phinish really make me reconsider having children when I grow up.

"Shut up! Just shut up! I'm trying to listen!"

I watch the television as Phinish and Isabelle finally quiet down. I can finally hear the words of the reporter.

"-Snow found dead in his armchair, a suicide note on the table next to him. The note relays as follows-'_There's so much pain in the world today, and I have finally sought escape. Please, son and daughter, don't grieve, for your father is in a happier place. Jonathan, I claim you as my heir, and I have faith that you will be a greater leader than your old father was_.'

" With that, Panem gets its last glimpse through the eyes of President Snow, one of the greatest leaders the Capitol has ever known. And now, we talk with Jonathan Snow, the new President of Panem, and the great legacy of his father."

I stare in shock at the television screen as the revelation finally hits me. President Snow, _dead_? For all my life that man had always seemed on of the constants of life; that no matter how old he was, he would forever be ruling Panem, an unchangeable, immortal creature. With this news broadcast, that illusion shatters like glass before me. I take a deep breath and focus my attention on the screen as Jonathan Snow talks with the female reporter.

"My father was always such a brave man," the new President Snow says, tears in his eyes. "But old age hit him hard. After so many active years, my father now had nothing to look forward to except his dinners. It had such a dramatic effect on him, and he became depressed. I would always try to cheer him up, be positive like he always was. 'Keep it up father,' I would say to him, 'because this year is a Quarter Quell.' My father loved the Quarter Quells; he loved all of the Hunger Games, but the Quarter Quells were his favorite. He would always guess which tribute would reign victorious after the Games were over. Even with that to look forward to, the stress and inactivity took him over, and the immobility became so hard. Even in the end, though, he remained so positive, and that is one of the reasons that he was such an inspiration to the Capitol and the Districts. And so I declare this year's Quarter Quell in honor of my father, the man you know as President Snow.

"And even in the midst of tragedy, there is hope. Next week the Reaping takes place across the Districts, and soon, the 125th Hunger Games will take place!"

A flash of nervousness passes through my body. The Reaping! I had forgotten about it until now. At sixteen, this would be my fifth one, but even with all the years, it would always be one of the nerve-wracking days of my life. My family was middle-class, and as a result I had no need to sign up for the tessera, yet the thought of those five miniature slip of paper with the name _Hiriam Maris _sends shivers down my spine. I know I am better off than many of my peers, and that my chances of being Reaped are slim at best. Yet whenever the day came, there was always a gnawing doubt in my stomach, one that the probabilities and statistics could not contain. I close my eyes for a moment and try to relax, but once again I am interrupted by a loud scream from Phinish. This only reminds me of the day in six years when Phinish and Isabelle will attend their first Reaping. I take a deep breath and turn to confront the situation behind me.

"Phinish, Isabelle, I believe I told you to go to your rooms. I'll count to three, and then start taking away television privileges. One…"

Before I even get to two, the twins are sprinting to their rooms like there's no tomorrow. I hear the satisfactory slam of their doors, and I'm alone with my thoughts again. Pulling the old wool blanket tightly around me, I take my respective spot near the window. I look out and resume counting the drops.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I must have fallen asleep at the window, because I awake on the floor to the sound of a door opening, blanket still around me. I groggily look up, and see Isabelle and Phinish emerging from their room. I turn to the door and see mother and father walk in, dripping with water.

My parents are both fishermen, and good ones too. On most days they have the most catches with their nets than any of their rivals, and they earn a quite a bit of money from their gathering. Everyday in any weather, unless it's a holiday, mom and dad are out checking their fishing nets along the coastlines of District 4, occasionally harpooning bigger sea creatures and gathering oysters, clams, and even seaweed for dinner. They always catch enough for a nice sum on the market, and for a hearty meal at home. My father's skills of harpooning and net weaving were passed down to me, while my mother prefers the more expensive trident for her fish spearing activities. Both of my parents have trained me in their trade, and I as am equally enthusiastic about fishing as they are. The sandy beaches and beautiful water of District 4 are my favorite places to be. I can't imagine what it would be like to live in District 11 or 12, so isolated and barren.

"Phinish! Isabelle!"

My mother picks the twins up and gives them an enormous hug while father ruffles their hair. With my parents being gone most of the day, I am usually responsible for making them breakfast, getting them to school, and watching them afterwards. It's a strenuous job, and I'm always looking for a time to rest.

Phinish and Isabelle start babbling about their day while I walk up to mother and father and give them a quick hug. Mother looks down and smiles at me then turns back to Phinish, who at the moment is the one talking.

"-and then the television turned on and it said President No somebody was dead and then Hiriam said 'shut up…'"

Father looks at me and frowns. "What Hiriam? The television said someone died?"

"President Snow—he was found dead in his room… they say he committed… suicide." I look at him, reading his features.

The shock is evident on mother and father's face. They look at me, and I'm not sure whether they're going to cry or cheer. Father goes over to the television and switches it on. Right now the Capitol is broadcasting a legacy feature, showing all the highlights of President Snow's apparently illustrious years. I'm too tired to watch, so I quietly depart, and shepherd the twins to the bathroom where they brush their teeth. Soon I'm lying in my bed, eyes closed, and I once more listen to the rain outside my window. It lulls me into sleep.

Days pass. The hours go by too fast, leading up to the day of the Reaping, where I will once more be gnawed away by worry and sleeplessness. I constantly think of it, and can barely pay attention in school. In District 4, it used to be an honor to be reaped, but after all these years and so many failed rebellions from other Districts, it's now generally regarded as a death sentence. Even if you have trained your whole life, even though it's technically illegal, there are almost never any volunteers for the people who are reaped. I try not to think of the day, but it always comes back.

I'm home reading a book when the television clicks on again. It's the Quarter Quell broadcast, where the new President Snow will pull out the slip of paper that determines what will be different in the Games this year. I watch as he mixes his fingers around in a big box, fishing for the right slip. He draws out a white piece of paper, takes a deep breath, and reads it.

"This year," Jonathan Snow says dramatically, "to show that no matter who you are and what you do, you are never safe from the Capitols power, every day that goes by without a death, two tributes chosen from a reaping ball will be killed by random events."

My heart pounds a little faster when he says this, but I realize that a day without a killing in the Hunger Games is pretty rare… but it does happen. It's a horrible rule, though. Even when another tribute attacks you, theirs is still the possibility of escape and living. But as soon as you're drawn from the ball, death is imminent. There's nowhere to run. This new rule will also be a great motivator a bloodier Game; for even the strongest have a chance to die when no one is killed. I shiver and once more think of the Reaping. It takes place in one day, and I am completely and utterly unprepared.

When I wake up the morning of the Reaping, I'm out of breath. It feels as if someone has dropped a thousand pounds on my chest, and I start to hyperventilate. I'm sweaty and hot, and feel nauseated. Carefully, I step out of bed and get a glass of water. It's only 8:00, but I know I won't get any more sleep. Isabelle and Phinish are still resting in their respective rooms, so I tiptoe quietly passed their doors. I arrive in the kitchen and find mother cooking golden pancakes, the aroma filling my entire body. Pancakes on Reaping day are tradition.

"Hey honey," mother says as she sees me. "Sleep well?"

She of course knows I didn't, just as I know that she was tossing and turning in bed last night too, worrying about me. Still, mother gives me an encouraging smile, but I can see the look of worry on her face.

I pull out a plate and pile it with pancakes. They're warm and delicious; especially with the fresh blackberry jam that Isabelle and I canned last summer. It seems a shame to waste it on such a sad day. Still, I gobble them down and then get dressed and head outside. The Reaping isn't until late this afternoon, so I'll come back and change into my Reaping dress beforehand. Right now, I just need fresh air.

There's a cool breeze blowing outside, and the sun shines down. This would normally be a great day for rowing out to the island that lies just off the coast, small, and densely packed with trees. My friends and myself always canoe to it when we get a chance, armed with a picnic basket. But unfortunately, this is not a normal day.

I walk down to the shore, trying to focus only on the rise and fall of the deep sea. It's beautiful out today, just another way to make the already dismal Reaping seem worse. _No_, I think it myself. _You will not think about the Reaping_.

A crab scuttles across my path, and I quickly pick up a sharp stick and jab it into the crab's back. Mid-morning snack.

I sit down on the coarse sand, removing the scarlet red exoskeleton of the crab. I finally get to some of the meat, and even though it's raw, shove it into my mouth. Crab is one of my favorite foods.

After my quick meal, I take a short walk on the coastline, looking for the fins of dolphins or sharks. When I don't spot anything, I sit back down and stare at the ocean.

The waves slowly push farther up the lonely sand. I don't know how long I've been here, but when I do finally look at my watch, it shows two fifty-eight. The Reaping is at four. It's amazing how fast time can pass, and how slow it can seem. I grudgingly get up and head for home, where I'll have to put on my white Reaping dress. It's beautiful, like the pearls from an oyster, but I wish there was another reason to wear it.

When I walk up the steps to my house, mother has already brought out my dress and is desperately trying to keep the twins under control and put them in their own Reaping clothes. Even though they have six years until they are placed inside the Reaping ball, Phinish and Isabelle—along with the rest of the community—are required to attend.

"Here you go Hiriam. Put on your dress."

I push back my shoulder-length brown hair, grab my dress, and head to my room. When I'm there I slip off my wool shirt and pants, and put on the white Reaping garb. I look at myself in the mirror, the creamy white color contrasting the tan skin on my tall body. I push back a few strands of loose hair and stare at myself with my deep sea green eyes. Then I hear my mother knocking.

"Hiriam? Are you ready?"

"Coming, mom," I say to her and open the door. My mother is holding my necklace, a silver chain with an oval blue jewel hanging on the bottom. She puts it around my neck and I smile.

"The Reaping starts in forty minutes. Let's get a snack, then we'll leave," mother says as she adjusts my hair. She escorts the twins into the kitchen and I follow, nervous and worried about the upcoming event.

Phinish and Isabelle gobble down some crackers and peanut butter, and then me, father, mother, and the twins are all walking to the town square. Lots of people are already there, and after a quick hug from my parents I depart and walk over to my age group. I see my friend Lyric standing alone, and I walk up to her. The Reaping is supposed to start in a few minutes, and I talk nervously with Lyric, both of us scared at the prospect of losing one another, and ourselves.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to 125th Reaping!"

The mayor has walked up to the podium, smiling happily. He doesn't have any children, so he has no reason to worry about the prospect of losing them. In this way, I despise him.

And now he launches into the annual telling of the Dark Days, and the rebellion of District 13, and how the Hunger Games serves as a reminder of those days. I've heard people talk about the Capitol and the Hunger Games spitefully, angered at them, and I've heard people justifying and celebrating them. But to be honest, I've always been a bit confused about exactly what the Capitol's motives are behind the Games. They're horrific, and I hate them as much as anybody else, but didn't we deserve it after rebelling and questioning authority? Mother and father rarely talk about such matters, and so I've always been left in the dark.

The mayor introduces the District 4 escort, Herman Polika. Herman is…strange. A smile is permanently fixed on his face, his eyebrows are huge and bushy, and his face is…blue. Completely. Totally and completely blue. I have no idea how Capitol technology could have done it, but they have, and Herman Polika is now blue, with streaks of pink in his blonde hair. Now he walks up to the podium, the glass Reaping ball in his hand, waving and blowing kisses to the stone-like audience.

"Helloooo, District 4! It is so nice to be back!"

The audience shifts uncomfortably. Herman really knows how to make people feel awkward.

"Well, you all probably know what I'm here to do today!" He suddenly lets out one of his famous, high-pitched giggles as the audience stares silently back.

"Time to get this rolling! In time-honored tradition, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor!"

Herman picks up the Reaping ball and sticks his hand in it. " Ladies first," he says happily. He fishes around a bit a pulls out a slip of paper. Worry is erupting inside of me, and everybody is utterly silent. Herman smoothes the paper and looks at it. This is it, the moment of absolute dread and silence. I am not prepared for Herman to speak.

"Henrietta Lunick!"

Everybody becomes confused, and we start looking at each other. Never has there been a Henrietta Lunick in District 4. This is some kind of mistake.

Herman notices our confusion.

"Henrietta?"

The mayor quickly walks over and whispers something in Herman's ear. He nods, and the mayor quickly leaves.

"Well, oopsies!" Herman says smiling. "It seems there is no Henrietta Lunick. Sorry for the mistake, now back to the Reaping ball!"

Once more, Herman's hand reaches into the glass ball and shifts around. You can feel the tension in the air.

A slip is out. Herman smoothes it again and reads it.

"Hiriam Maris!"

At the sound of those words, I faint and collapse on the ground.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

When I fade back into consciousness, Herman is standing over me, his smiling blue face staring at me.

"You all right there Hiriam? Took quite a spill!" He giggles again, and I am completely repulsed by him. I smell his sickly, cotton candy breath.

I'm having a hard time remembering what has happened. I'm on the ground of the town square, all he citizens of District 4 staring down at me. What was happening?

Herman helps me up and leads me to the stage.

"Well now that you're fine, let's get out boy tribute!"

Everything comes crashing back, and I have a hard time standing up. I'm shivering, alone and scared.

I suddenly see my parent's faces in the crowd. They looked frightened and shocked. I glimpse the Phinish and Isabelle, who are looking confused and worried.

"Before we select a male Tribute, are there any volunteers?"

The entire District 4 stares back at Herman and I. No one steps forward.

"Well, then." Herman walks over and picks up the male Reaping ball. He shifts around inside and pulls out a slip.

"Morgan Kellick!"

I faintly recognize the name. I see Morgan stumble onto the stage, but he looks happy instead of shocked. He's stocky, well built, tall, and muscular with thick black hair hat goes down to his eyes. I've seen him before in school, but never have I talked to him. I am suddenly intimidated and scared by him, this man who has obviously been waiting and training all his life for this moment. Often, Tributes from the same district will team up, but I find myself not trusting Morgan one bit—or liking him. Tears are close now, and I feel them start to run down to my cheeks. I try to wipe them away before my parents see them.

Suddenly a group of people are shepherding Morgan and me to the Justice Building of District 4, where we'll be able to say our last goodbyes to our families. I have no idea how I will console them, for we all know that I may be able to survive a few days, never will I able to come out as the remaining Tribute.

As we approach the building, we are suddenly steered away from it and instead move toward the awaiting train.

"What are you doing?" I yell to one of the men. Without turning around he says, "Goodbyes have been canceled this year. A new rule from the President Jonathan Snow. Take too long, and we need to get you to the Capitol."

I almost break down when I hear this. No goodbyes? They've always been part of the Hunger Games, often the last time a Tribute will speak to his or her family. Even Morgan next to me looks slightly upset over this new rule. I try not to think of my parents, Phinish and Isabelle, knowing that I will probably never speak to them again. We're escorted onto the train, into the luxurious interior. Its beautiful, but I wish I could never have stepped inside this great metal beast.

Herman follows us on and tells us that dinner will be in an hour. Meanwhile, we are free to roam to stay in our respective quarters. Suddenly, I am curious. I tap Herman on the back and ask him where our mentor is.

He turns around and says, "Oh, Mr. Maynard didn't feel like attending the Reaping today." Herman rolls his eyes. "But don't worry, he's boarding soon…you'll be able to talk to him at dinner."

Didn't feel like it? I wonder what kind of a person can openly declare himself above such events. The kind of person I don't want as a mentor, that's for sure.

I walk to my room at the far end of the train, and suddenly I'm in tears. It's like someone turned on the faucets in my eyes, and water is leaking everywhere. I don't hold them back, but let the tears flow as a sob on the soft, cushy bed beneath me. I cry and cry and cry, until there's no water left in me. Then I just turn around on my back and look at the ceiling.

The train suddenly lurches into the motion, I'm caught off-guards at it's fast speed. I've only been on a train once before, and it had gone so much slower than this. Eventually and get back on my feet, just as Herman knocks and brightly announces it's dinnertime.

I'm not hungry, but dinner is one of the best times for a strategy session, and that's something I don't want to miss. So I walk to the dining room, elegantly set, and take my place across from Morgan. Herman sits next to me, and we wait for the food and our mentor.

The food arrives first, and the enticing aromas and scents of the multitude of dishes brings out my appetite. The cook sets down a pot of what looks to be some sort of seafood soup, a creamy white color, with pink shrimp floating in it. There's also a salad with a minimal amount of dressing in a small dish, so I surreptitiously steal Herman's when he's looking away. Then the chef sets down the main course; a beautiful, golden roasted duck, with an arrangement of apples and vegetables around it. Beside it is a gravy boat filled to the brim. I apply liberal amounts to the duck, along with the salad.

Just as I am contemplating how the sourdough bread would taste in the hot chocolate I've been given, our mentor arrives. Just by the way he walks I can tell that he thinks he's God's gift to the world. As he sits down, I have to concede that he's handsome, with deep tan skin, piercing aqua blue eyes, a fresh, clean, and boyish and face. As I look at him, I recognize his face. It was only last year that he won the Hunger Games, which means this is also his first year of mentoring. My hope is already plummeting by the second.

"Couldn't even wait five minutes while I took a quick nap to dig into dinner, could you? The least you could've done was dish me up a plate."

I instantly despise him and the way he tries to make others feel guilty for his own actions. This is not turning out to be my year.

Morgan, on the other hand, is either impressed by our mentor or is trying to get on his good side, because he immediately picks up a plate and fills it with roasted duck and gravy.

"Here you go, sir."

It's the first time I've heard him talk, and I find his voice strangely pleasant and melodic. Like a song.

"Smart boy, this one," laughs our mentor as he shoves a piece of duck into his mouth. "Right, so I'm Hadrian Maynard, and I'll be your mentor this year." He chuckles again. "Should we go around in a circle telling our names?" he says wryly. Herman actually starts saying his until he realizes that Hadrian was being sarcastic. Suddenly he goes off into a mumbled discussion on whether or not asparagus should be classified as a vertebrate, pretending it was all intentional.

"Really though, I need your names. You boy," he points at Morgan with his fork.

"Morgan," he says, "and I must say I am so pleased to meet you. I couldn't take my eyes off of you in the last Hunger Games. So amazing. I know you'll be just as equally amazing as a mentor."

"Last name?"

"Kellick, sir."

"Well, Morgan Kellick, I like you. You're a smart guy, and I like smart guys. And you?"

"Hiriam Maris," I say to him.

"How did you like me in the Games last year, missy?"

I furrow my brow as he calls me _missy_.

"You did fine."

"I did fine, _what_?"

He's trying to get me to call him sure, but I won't. A boar has better manners than that Hadrian.

"You did fine."

Hadrian looks at me in fury, and the blood begins to rise in his face. Suddenly, he pulls out a knife from his breast pocket.

"I won't be mocked by some self-absorbed sniveling whiner like you…I'll make you take back what you said!"

Herman starts trying to soothe Hadrian, but he ignores him. Suddenly he lunges at me from across the table. Before the knife can touch me, I've picked up my mug of hot cocoa, and throw the steaming contents into his face. Hadrian yelps and drops his knife, which Herman neatly grabs from the table. I can tell by his expression, Herman is angry. A first. What a great many things I'm learning today.

"Hadrian! I can't believe you! This from a star Hunger Games victor? The Capitol is going to be angry. Don't let it happen again!"

For a while, everyone at the table stews in silence, and Hadrian is shooting me furious glances. Somehow I think throwing my hot chocolate at him didn't improve my impression.

Usually, all Districts have at least two or three mentors that help train, but in recent years, District 4 hasn't been faring well at the Hunger Games. The last victor we have produced before Hadrian is Finnick Odair, who is in his seventies. He would still be mentoring if he hadn't developed cancer. He is currently going through treatment.

The chef arrives again, with a delicious strawberry cake of some sort. I take a big slice and bite into it. It's still warm.

Soon, I'm stuffed, tired, and homesick. I want to go to bed. We'll be arriving at the Capitol tomorrow mid-afternoon, where we'll be meeting with our stylists. I hope that I am given a good one. But given my luck lately, it isn't likely.

I get up from the table, and address the room that I'm going to bed. No except Herman acknowledges me.

"Have a good night. It's a big, big day tomorrow!"

I mumble something that I'm not even aware of, then I'm staggering to my room. Without even bothering to change, I collapse on the soft blanket and slowly drift to sleep as the train rocks me. It's a soothing feeling…

…Until Herman knocks on my door, announcing that it's breakfast time.

_Yay_, I think to myself. _Nothing like having waffles and strawberries with the people you hate._

When I arrive, however, Hadrian is absent, and only Morgan and Herman sit at the dining room table. Once again, I sit next to Herman, who's reading a copy of _The Capitol Tribune_, the Capitol's current newspaper.

"Ahhh! I can't believe Gilda is going to be thirty-three on Thursday! Hmmm…_guests are encouraged to wear whiskers and tails_…oh good, I love feline parties!" He suddenly turns and sees me.

"Hey Hiriam! Have a good sleep?"

"It was fine," I mumble, not being a morning person.

"Well, I have to tell both of you that I am _so_ excited about the stylists this year. Now, this isn't really allowed," A girlish Herman giggle slips his lips. "But I've peeked into our stylists, and they are so the rising stars of the fashion world!"

I start to question this, coming from a man who thinks that wearing whiskers and tails around in public is fun.

I don't say anything but instead nod my head encouragingly and take a sip from my orange juice. I can tell that Morgan is similarly unenthused. That's one common bond we share.

"Where's Hadrian?" Morgan asks Herman, his mouth full of fluffy pancake. "Still sleeping?"  
"That's a positive, Mr. Kellick. I tried to rouse him, but I guess being the star of the Capitol gets into your head. He decided his presence was not needed here."

_That makes two of us_, I think to myself.

A cart is wheeled out be two plump men. I can see and smell sizzling bacon, golden waffles, blood red strawberries, and thinly sliced pink ham. On the tables, the arrangement looks so colorful and pretty. I smile in spite of my situation. Color has a way of cheering me up.

I suddenly feel famished. I pile my plate high with bacon, sliced ham, waffles, and syrup over everything. It's all I can do to not stuff everything in my mouth.

Morgan is similarly hungry, but Herman has barely touched a thing. He's too engrossed in the gossip from the Capitol. Soon I'm stuffed, and finally I push my plate away.

"Pass the syrup," Morgan says to me suddenly. I'm shocked. It's the first time he's directly communicated with me.

"Sure," I respond in what I think is a cheery voice. Morgan grabs the golden maple sap and pours it over his waffles.

We all sit in silence for a while. Suddenly Herman jumps up, startling me.

"Hadrian Maynard has slept too long," he says steadily as he walks off, but not before grabbing four glasses of ice water.

Morgan and me wait for a moment in silence, then we hear a fusillade of obscenities emanating form Hadrian's bedroom. Herman has been successful.

Herman returns to the table with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. A minute later, Hadrian arrives, his face and upper body dripping with water.

"Coffee. NOW."

Before Herman can respond with a well-rehearsed comeback, Morgan snatches the coffee container and pours some of the bitter brown liquid into a mug. Hadrian grabs it from Morgan without a word, and slowly sips. I can tell he's grumpy.

"Well, Hadrian, now that everyone is acquainted, I think this would be an appropriate time to start strategizing with the tributes. In case you're wondering, that's your job," Herman says sarcastically. I think he picked it up from all the stuff that's radiating off Hadrian. I must say though, it's a big step for Herman.

"OK. Strategy. Right. Where to start…"

The table lapses into a silence again.

"First off, I need to know your special skills. And Miss Maris, unfortunately I don't believe they'll have any hot chocolate for you to throw in the arena…or my bets would be on you."

There's no missing the sarcasm in his voice. My face grows red against my wishes.

"Morgan, skills. What weapons are you adept at?"

Across the table, Morgan thinks for a moment then says, "I'm good with swords, clubs. I've experimented with a bow before…not incredibly good. I can lift a lot."

"There's no guarantee that they'll be swords in the arena, but a club or a mace is a good bet. Are you good at hand-to-hand combat?" Hadrian asks. I'm amazed at his transformation from a sarcastic jerk into a semi-good mentor. I can only hope he'll be as helpful with me.

"Yeah. I get in a lot of fights at school."

"Well, Morgan, you have a good chance at the crown. At dinner tonight we'll discuss training. And now Hiriam Maris, what are your skills?"

I think for a moment, and then answer.

"I can throw a fishing spear and harpoon well. I'm good at making nets, too."

Hadrian looks at me for moment, studying my face to see if I'm telling the truth. I stare back at him. Finally, I think he's convinced I'm earnest.

"That's a start. There's almost always a spear in the arena. As for the nets…you could learn to make some snares and traps, but those don't always work."

Well, Hadrian has temporarily abandoned his sarcastic attitude to help me. One thing to be thankful about.

"Of course, I can't really see you overcoming the other tributes. I'm betting you'll go down the first or second day."

Then it all comes crashing back. That comment was harsh, and totally unprecedented. Mentors are supposed to encourage their tributes, not bet on the day they'll die!

I slam down my glass of orange juice and leave the table.

"Tell me when we reach the Capitol," I say icily. Then I walk off into my room, furious with Hadrian, Morgan, and even slightly Herman. Up until now, I had always considered myself somewhat lucky in life. All that's gone now.

I lay down on the soft bed sheets, thinking of home and Phinish and Isabelle. I'd probably have just finished breakfast, and now be getting the twins ready for school. I'm so homesick it hurts.

The train rumbles on at its fast pace. Soon Herman knocks on my door quietly and announces that we're arriving in the Capitol. I wipe my face and then change into a deep purple frock dotted with yellow flowers. Then I retrieve my string of iridescent pearls from the floor where my white Reaping dress lays wrinkled. I pick it up and smooth it out.

As I step out of my room and look out the windows, I can see the Capitol looming ahead. It's a labyrinth of candy-colored building, scraping the sky. Beautiful, striking, but it looks so superficial and one-dimensional, as if it has no depth. On the streets, hordes of people are parading around with strange hairstyles, bizarre tattoos, and even mermaid tails. Suddenly I'm worried about what I'm going to be wearing for my chariot ride.

The train pulls to a stop at the Remake Center. It's here that Morgan and me will be meeting out respective stylists and be outfitted in our garb for the chariot ride. This event is a good time to draw sponsors and the favor of the Capitol audience, so I hope that my outfit will be somewhat good.

"Alright," Herman says to me and Morgan. Hadrian already got off the train and is heading over to the mentor's station. "Now remember, your stylists know what they're doing. So some respect, and also, big smiles! We want to win over the crowd, remember?"

He shoos us off the train and escorts us to the building. He drops me off first in a large, empty room with a sink, a bathtub, and a chair. I seat myself I this as Herman tells me that he'll take Morgan over to his room, and alter we'll reconnect before the chariot ride. Then, both of them leave, and I am alone in the room.

I wait in the vast silence for a long time, and then suddenly, three girls erupt from the big doors tom my left. My prep team, I realize. They're overflowing with excitement and enthusiasm that I can't help but feel. They start introducing themselves at the same time, but finally realize I can't hear anything they are saying.

"Omigosh! I'm Ilona and I'm so totally excited to be part of your prep team! Last year, I got a boy, and that was no fun at all. Oh, I am so excited I could _die_!"

Ilona stops talking and starts playing with my hair, as the next girl steps up and introduces herself as Keeley. The last girl is named Benedicta. They're all bubbling with excitement, and I can't help taking a liking to them.

They tell me to strip down, and I feel a little self-conscious. I do it anyway though, and then they start working on my skin, nails, and lastly, my eyebrows. As they work, they talk, about everything from the color of their eyes to the birthday party of a best friend's coworker's friend's mom's cousin's uncle who has an incredibly bad taste in furniture.

In what seems like a second turns out to be an hour, and I'm suddenly all whipped into shape. Now my stylist will arrive and outfit me in my chariot dress. Nervousness rises in me, but Keeley reassures me.

"Don't worry, Hiriam. Toris is a master at his art. I just adore his dresses!"

I feel a little better when she says this, but I'm still worried.

Benedicta goes to fetch Toris, my stylist, as Keeley and Ilona make small chat with me. It helps me think of other things besides the Hunger Games and home.

As the conversation turns to the perils of wearing green to a flamingo party, Toris suddenly enters. He's a tall, blond man, probably in his late twenties. His eyes are a deep blue, like a sapphire. I'm amazed at the intensity of them, and find myself looking away. He just smiles at me though.

"Hello Hiriam. I'm Toris."

His voice is deep and pleasant, and reminds of a stream of water. I smile and nod my head in answer.

"The grand chariot ride is in an hour, so let's get you into your dress. I can't wait until you see it!"

Ilona is suddenly behind me, and holds out in front of her a beautiful aquamarine dress. It goes down to my ankles, where it is cut like the rolling waves of District 4. It's strapless, and in the light green-blue fabric of the dress are darker swirls of blue.

"Put it on," urges Ilona.

And so I do, I feel beautiful. Heck, I _am_ beautiful. This dress is amazing. I'm glad I've finally been placed in competent hands.

"Alright," Toris says. "Makeup time."

Benedicta and Keeley sit me down, then Toris sets to work on my face. He places a dramatic slash of sea-green eyeliner over both of my eyes, then applies the same color lipstick on me. Finally, he adds a hint of deep blue blush on my cheeks. To finish my appearance, Benedicta places an oversized sapphire ring on my finger. I look at myself in the mirror, and a sea goddess stares back.

"Wait!" shrieks Keeley. "Don't forget the crown!"

On my head is placed a dried wreath of dark seaweed. Everything looks amazing. I have a feeling the audience will adore me.

"There," Toris finally says. "All done. Let's go meet your male counterpart."

So Benedicta, Keeley, Ilona, and Toris, all escort me out of the makeover area and into a gigantic room filled with horses, chariots, and tributes. I spot Morgan and wave so he can see me.

He's wearing vibrant sea-blue tuxedo, and looking extremely less impressive than me. His shoes are black, and there's a green tie on him. I guess everyone can't get a good stylist.

"Hey," I say to him. He nods at me, but doesn't answer.

"OK," Toris says excitedly. "District 1 is out and rolling!"

I watch as they leave the stables, and they look beautiful. The female tribute is wearing a white, flowing dress, brightly colored gemstones attached to the fabric, creating a shimmering, colorful, and elegant, figure. The male tribute is equally astounding in a matching shirt and cape trailing behind him. Their steeds, pure white, only seem to enhance the effect.

Next are the District 2 tributes, who are dressed in Peacekeeper outfits. District 2 is where they're trained. I find myself unimpressed. Of course, District 2 doesn't have a lot of other options. Except for stone quarries. But who really wants to see tributes dressed up as rocks?

The District 3 tributes are decked out in metallic silver suits, with a few glaring multi-colored dots of light and glowing red wires. They look fine, but not as elegant as District 1. Nor as elegant as me. The male tribute seems to be somewhat confused at what's happening, but he suddenly breaks into a gigantic smile and waves to the audience.

Suddenly, two chocolate brown horses are in front of me, pulling a golden chariot behind.

"Alright," Toris says. "It's time. Big smiles, you'll be great!"

Morgan and me have somehow gotten in the chariot, then an announcer says to the audience, "And now, ladies and gentleman, I give you the tributes of District 4!"

The horses start trotting, faster than I feel comfortable. We pull into the city streets, waving and smiling. The audience gives us a good round of applause, but I know that we seem tepid compared to District 1. Especially Morgan, in his ugly suit. I try to smile enthusiastically, waving and blowing kisses, but the audience doesn't seem very enthused by us. However, I spot a few people who seem to like my dress.

By the time we reach the City Circle, my hopes have plummeted. My outfit was great, Morgan's okay, but without audience approval, I don't really have a good chance of getting sponsors. The horses pull to a stop, and Morgan and I step down from the chariot. Toris and my prep team greet me, smiling, but I can feel that they are somewhat disappointed.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to Ilona.

She laughs. "Don't worry about it Hiriam. It isn't your fault. We were just expecting your outfit to make a bigger splash. Oh well, what's done is done."

I can't help but notice the dejection in her voice.

Herman approaches both Morgan and me. "Okay, time to get to the Training Center."

Once again, anticipation and nervousness rises within me. The Training Center. It will be my home until the Games in a few days. Where I will be training, getting in shape, eating, sleeping. And suddenly, I am afraid.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We arrive at the Training Center, me feeling scared and alone. When we enter, I am taken aback by the luxuriousness of it all. Velvet carpet, plush armchairs and couches, and a beautiful diamond chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Everything is amazing.

"This way," Herman says to me. Then he taps Morgan on the shoulder, and we follow him into a big steel elevator. It used to be made of glass, but after a tribute cracked it with a hard object, they made a steel one impervious to those kinds of attacks.

Herman pushes a big button with a 4 on it, and then the elevator is whisking us up.

There's a ding, and then the doors open. Far to the right is an unremarkable burgundy door, and to the left is a blue one.

"Okay Hiriam, your room is the red door, and Morgan, you have the blue one. Just relax for a while, and then I'll call you down to dinner for a strategy session."

And then Herman is gone, and Morgan and I are standing alone in the hallway.

Morgan coughs, then retreats to his door. I am about to do the same when the elevator dings again. Expecting it to be Herman with some last-minute information, I walk over to the doors.

I am suddenly staring into the face of President Jonathan Snow.

For an instant, fear shoots through me, but then I calm down and force myself to smile. I've done nothing wrong.

"Well, hello there," President Snow says looking at me. Staring at me, like a butcher looks at the meat he's about to slaughter. "I accidentally pushed the wrong button. Technology, I could never keep up with it!" He chuckles and I laugh along, trying to decipher his actions. What is he doing in the Training Center?

"I remember, you," President Snow suddenly says. He laughs again. "I mean, I remember your dress. It was beautiful."

I giggle as if what he's said is funny. I'm a good actor.

"Well, really it was my stylist. He's great!"

"_I_ certainly loved the dress. I can't wait to see what your interview outfit will look like."

"That makes two of us," I giggle.

Snow looks down at his watch. "Uh-oh. I better be get going. Nice seeing you."

"Same here," I say after him, as the elevator shoots upwards. Then he's gone, and I'm alone in the hall. Something doesn't feel right.

For a long time, I just stand in the hall, trying to make sense of what is happening. The president in the tribute Training Center? No, that kind of thing doesn't happen. There must be some reason for his surprise appearance. What though? I sigh and move back to my quarters. I'm tired. I'll take a quick nap and then head down to dinner when Herman shows up.

I open the burgundy door and look at my beautiful, expensive room. Soft, fuzzy flooring, chic couches around a fireplace, a huge bathtub and shower. In the corner lies an enormous bed, blankets covering the fluffy monster. It's so big that when I lay down, I'm afraid it will swallow me up.

I close my eyes and clear my head, but sleep doesn't come. Finally I get up and pace, then drink a glass of cool water. It calms me down a little. But when I return to the bed, sleep still eludes me.

I'm still awake when Herman knocks and announces that it's dinnertime. I get up and reconvene with Morgan as we enter the dining room on our floor.

Hadrian is already there, impatiently tapping his porcelain plate with his silverware. As always, I sit next to Herman, but Toris and my prep team, along with Morgan's and his stylist, all arrive. Ilona sits on my other side, with Benedicta and Keeley next to her. Morgan is in a seat next to Hadrian and his stylist.

"Well," Herman says cheerfully. "How was everybody's first day in the Capitol?"

The chef brings a platter of octopus in a jelly sauce to the table. I tentatively nibble on the tentacle. Delicious.

"Fine," Morgan says. "But the fashion here is weird."

Everybody except Hadrian, me, and Morgan take a collective gasp. Even I am shocked. I completely agree with him, but to announce this in front of two prep teams, two stylists, and a man with a blue face is dangerous. Extremely.

Hadrian clears his throat. "Delicious octopus," he says.

I once more focus my attention on the food. A pale red soup with green chunks in it. I fill my bowl.

"Hiriam," Herman finally says. "What about you?"

I just look at the roasted bird stuffed with onions and green peppers. It takes me a while to realize he's talking to me.

"Oh, um, it was fine. Fun. The horses were a little fast though."

Herman bursts out laughing at my apparently funny comment, and everybody else joins awkwardly in. Herman stars wiping tears off his face, then dives into the soup, while everyone else likewise turns their attention onto the food.

Everybody sits in silence for a long time. Finally, after everybody is stuffed with food, Herman says, "Okay, Hadrian. Strategy session."

In response Hadrian lets out a long burp. He wipes his mouth, and then looks up at me, then Morgan.

"First off, I want both of you to start at a station that you are unfamiliar with. You'll have plenty of time to show off other days. Right now, you want to cover as many foreign stations as you can."

"What are the most useful stations?" Morgan asks as he moves his fork around his empty plate. "Which ones will be the most handy?"

Hadrian sighs. "There's no real way of knowing, simply because you—nor I—have any idea what the arena will be this year. Knot tying always is good, but I'd suggest waiting to do that one until later, because you two are apparently good at that. The edible berry station is good, too. Never know when you'll need that knowledge. Hmmm, well, hand-to-hand combat would be good for you, Hiriam. And both of you should try your hand at archery. Oh, also knife-throwing and sword fighting. At least for Hiriam."

Both of us nod. That was amazingly productive. Now I have at least an idea of what I'm supposed to do.

"Allies is another thing. Sit with the other Career districts at lunch tomorrow, and try to get into the Career pack. It shouldn't be too difficult, along as you are somewhat good with the weapons."

He takes a drink from his cup.

"But Hiriam, don't be too disappointed if you don't get accepted. You don't have a lot of good abilities."

Hadrian has done it again. Managed to be incredibly helpful while ripping on me. Normally, I'm a nice person. Not too much can get under my skin, really. But when I'm provoked… all I can think is it's too bad there's no hot chocolate with dinner.

Thankfully, my prep team has got my back.

"Wow," Benedicta says, eyeing Hadrian. "Never knew that you had the jerkiness to match your looks."

Okay, so maybe they're not the cleverest at comebacks. But hey, it's something.

"Yeah. If I got a penny every time you looked in a mirror to admire yourself, I'd be a billionaire," Keeley retorts as Hadrian just looks at them, confused.

Before Ilona can throw in her opinion, Herman interrupts. "I think its time for everyone to go to bed."

Both Morgan and I murmur assent, then get up from the table. Before I depart, I whisper thanks to my prep team. They just nod and smile at me.

"Oh, but Hiriam," Benedicta suddenly says. "You dropped your sapphire ring in the chariot. Somebody picked it up and put it on the desk on the first floor. You should go get it."

"Oh," I say. "I will. Thanks."

I walk down the hallway and to the elevator, where I press the button with a 0 it. It's a short ride, and I find an attendant at the desk. She smiles and gives me the ring, and then I quietly depart.

I walk to the elevator, and with a ding, the doors open. As I am about to push the button 4, I notice at the very top, above the number 12, a blank and white button. No number, no nothing. I wonder where it could lead. There really is only one way to find out. I look left and right, making sure no one is watching me, and then quickly, before I can change my mind, press the button. With a groan, the elevator starts going up.

It's hard to say how long it takes to reach the unknown floor. It could've been a minute, could've been an hour. All I can feel is the fear, almost numb from it. But inside, I'm also excited, and curious.

The elevator dings. The doors open and I am looking into a long, unlit hall. There's only one door, at the very far end. Taking a deep breath, I walk forward.

As I advance, I can't help but feel claustrophobic. The walls are so narrow, so closed in. I feel trapped, and I'm even more scared than I was in the elevator.

The door is a strange, almost indescribable shade of black. Yes, there's something wrong with its color, as if it is too light or too dark. Confused, I am about to turn the handle when I see the number pad beneath it. _Damn!_ I think to myself. It's sure to be locked, and I'm afraid to try the code, in case it's monitored. As soon as I think that, I become aware of the fact that I could be being videotaped right now. I feel numb again. But what else can I do? Curiosity is going to kill me if I don't find out what lies behind that door.

It's then that I see a wallet, wedged between the door and the frame. _Yes,_ I think to myself. Sure enough, as I turn the handle, the door opens. I'm glad that whoever was here last dropped their wallet.

As I enter the room, I see that it's small, very small. There only a desk and two chairs. But it's what on the desk that attracts me. Two computers, thin and white, are sitting on top. One says _1-6_, the other _7-12_. I look at the first screen and see it split into twelve parts. I appear to be looking into every tribute's, Districts 1-6, room. Yes, I recognize some of the males and females from the chariot ride. Well, I guess it does make sense that we're being monitored. Still, deep inside, it unnerves me. On the screen, only one room is empty, the one that reads _4-F_, most likely for District 4 female.

As I draw my eyes away from the screen, I notice a clipboard on the table. The first page says _District 1 Female_ on one side, and _District 1 Male_ on the other. Underneath, the only thing is an enigmatic _F_. F for what? I think of all the words I know that begin with the letter F. Fish, fruit, finger. It's no use.

There are 12 pages total on the clipboard, one for each District, and they all read the same, the only difference being the District numbers. I start to grow frustrated as I try to decipher what this means. I think of all sorts of reasons for this being here, none of them plausible. Finally I slam the clipboard down on the table and start to head out of the room. Carefully, I place the wallet back in its spot, so there's no reason to suspect I was here. Then carefully I return to the elevator. The doors open, and I'm relieved to find nobody inside. I push the button with the 4 on it, and the elevator descends.

The doors open on floor 4. I exit the elevator and return to my room. Suddenly I'm aware that someone could be watching me from the room I just discovered. I feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, but I can't show that I have the information I do. Finally, I turn off the lights and just go to bed. As I struggle for sleep, I think of words that begin with F.

I wake up before Herman knocks. I'm shivering and writhing around in the bed, sure my blankets are trapping me, entangling me. The more I toss and turn, the tighter the blankets become, until I lay on my back, gasping for air.

For a while, I just stare at the ceiling, feeling scared and nervous at the prospect of training. I try to think of other things, but it's no use. Trying to avoid the inevitable is useless.

It's then when Herman knocks on the door, relaying the message of breakfast. I hop out of bed and get dressed, hungry and nervous. I rush down to breakfast, and find I'm the last one to arrive. I smile at my prep team and Toris, then focus on the food. There's a puffy loaf of bread with warms cheese melted over the top, and I take two slices. The aroma is wonderful, but not as decadent as the taste. I could eat this for the rest of my life.

"So," Herman says brightly. "Training today.'

I nod but Morgan just continues eating. After his failed attempt to start a conversation, Herman starts chatting with my prep team about the weather and Capitol fashion. Hadrian just stays in his little isolated corner, stuffing his face with everything on the table.

After about a half hour of eating, it's nine o'clock. Herman suggests staying in our rooms until around ten, when we are supposed to meet for training. So I find myself back in my room, knowing that right now a camera is trained on me. Who could be watching, I don't know.

Of course! It hits me like a train. How could I have been so stupid! I remember the elevator doors opening, President Jonathan Snow inside. Had pushed he wrong button. He must have been going to the monitoring room. What other reason would he have been in the Training Center!

That still begs the question of why he is doing this in the first place. The clipboard, the F. How does it all fit?

I think of the room, the desk, the chairs. The chairs! There were two! Why would there be two chairs if it were only President Snow monitoring the tributes. There must be someone else with him. An assistant perhaps? My mind is so confused.

Once more I run through my head words beginning with F. Future, from, for, four, friend, frame…the list is endless. And how will I even know when I think of the right word?

I look at the clock on my bedside table. 9:46. I should probably head down to the training gym.

When I arrive, Morgan is already there. Hadrian is somewhere, but I doubt he'll show up. Already, at least half of the tributes have arrived.

At precisely nine o' clock, a man named Aton starts his spiel. The tributes are allowed to cover any station we want for however long we wish. These stations range from sword fighting to poisonous plant identifying, to camouflaging. I take a look around the massive gym, at the multitudes of stations. I decide I'll start with sword fighting.

The instructor is a woman in her mid-thirties. She seems nice, a little sarcastic but nothing like what I've had to put up with in Hadrian. It even seems that I have a knack for sword fighting. I'm good, nowhere near excellent, but in a sword fight, I'd be fairly confident. I practice for about an hour, then decide to move on.

To balance out all the physical exertion I used last station, I go to the edible berries instructor. After learning some good facts, and having stored some of the information, I move on to camouflaging.

It goes on. Station to station. I excel in camouflaging, but my hand to hand combat leaves something to be desired. Finally I try my hand at archery. I can hit all the motionless targets, but the moving ones give me some trouble. Like Hadrian advised, I don't go to the knot tying, spear throwing, of knife throwing station yet. Still, even without practicing these, by lunchtime I'm starving, sore, and tired.

Tributes all eat together after training, in an enormous lunchroom. I get in line for food. As I wait, I survey the lunchroom, sizing up all the other tributes-my opponents. I see the Career table, with all of District 1, 2, 3, and half of 4. I already see Morgan sitting there, chatting with the District 1 girl. Almost all the other tributes are sitting alone. I notice a brutish man sitting at a nearby table, and remember that he's from 12. He was dressed in an unattractive black coal miner suit with red flames one the side. The female tribute from 12 is sitting with another girl and boy, both of them from 8. I see the District 11 tributes eating together, but everybody else is isolated, eating by themselves.

After grabbing my lunch, I walk over to the Career table and pull up a chair. As I start to sit down, Morgan turns around and looks at me icily.

"Why are you sitting here?"

What does he mean, why am I sitting here? I'm sitting here per my sarcastic mentor's instructions, and I'm also a Career.

"I was informed that tributes were allowed to sit anywhere. Maybe you missed it when you were staring at her." I point to the female tribute from District 1, and she blushes.

"Don't get to attached," I warn. "Don't want to end up killing your girlfriend. That would really put a damper on the romance."

Morgan just glares at me. "Get away. We don't want you."

I stand my ground.

"Did you hear me? Get the hell out of here! We don't want a weak little tribute who's going to get the rest of us killed!"

That's it. I tried to reason with him. Sort of, anyway. I said before, I'm usually fine until provoked. Just ask Hadrian.

So there's no one to blame but himself when my lunch tray somehow finds itself in Morgan's face. He shrieks, in his sweet, singsong voice, but I've already turned on my heel. I locate an empty table and just sit down, fuming. When I look back at the Career table, I notice everybody's looking concerned and worried, except the boy from District 3 who's laughing insanely. I look back down at the table and wish that I had saved some of my food.

The next day I continue with my training, going to a poisonous plant identifying station, to the slingshot. I'm horrible at the slingshot, but all right at telling the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous plants. At lunch, I don't even try to sit with the Careers. I don't really like any of them anyway, and I think that I would work better alone. So I eat by myself, and find that I actually enjoy the solitude.

Training has helped take my mind off home and my imminent slaughter, for it gives me something o do, something to work towards. I try to go to every station that I haven't hit the third day, including knot tying, but I still miss a few. I work hard and fast to help keep down my anxiety. Because after lunch is our individual training, where we show off our skills to the Gamemakers. I plan on just tying some knots and throwing some spears. I don't really have a clear idea.

We are wait in the dining room for our District to be called, 1 being first, 12 last. I'm glad that I won't have to be alone with Morgan, for I'm positive he'd kill me given the chance. I contemplate the death sentence I've given myself. It's obvious he'll go after me in the arena. Suddenly I feel scared.

I hear Morgan being called. Tributes usually take about fifteen to thirty minutes to show off their skills, so I just sit and stare at the ceiling. The minutes pass by too fast, and I find myself trying not to look at the clock. I start biting my fingernails, and feel lunch rising in me.

"Hiriam Maris!"

It's like the reaping all over again, and I see blackness for a moment. _Be brave, Hiriam_, I say to myself. It doesn't help much.

I walk into the room, and see a big black mark in the middle of the floor. It's still smoking slightly, ad I find myself wondering what that tribute did this. Then I glimpse the huge assortment of weapons, from maces to candles, to slingshots to weights. They're all neatly laid out on an enormous shelf, gleaming and shining as if they had been cleaned recently. Then there's also the camouflage station, with millions of different colors and shades, just waiting to be placed on skin. I find myself staring in awe at this amazing display. Behind, a Gamemaker coughs, and I remember that I'm being evaluated. Anxiety threatens to take hold, but I keep it down.

I quickly locate the spears. Really, I'm better with fishing harpoons, but despite having such a wide array of weapons, they seem to have neglected to include these. Spears are the closest things that they have to fishing harpoons though, so I grab one by the shaft, testing the weight. It feels right, not too heavy, but having enough weight to thrust itself into the body of an attacker. Beside the weapons rack there's a wide variety of targets, dummies, and stuffed animals for people to shoot or throw at. I pull out a dummy, softly back up, and then with all the force I can muster, throw my spear at the dummy's heart. It goes slightly right, and skewers the dummy in the arm. I silently curse, knowing that the throw was mediocre at best. I'm hoping that the Gamemakers are somewhat impressed, but I notice that the girl in front, the Head Gamemaker, is stifling a yawn. The others are moving around some roasted vegetables on their plate.

I retrieve my spear from the dummy, and throw again. This time it hits the chest squarely, but I know that throwing a spear is not an extremely impressive feat in the Gamemakers' eyes. My eyes drift back to the rack of weapons, and I notice some rope. Knot-tying it is, then.

The rope in the rack is thick and strong. I'm very good at making nets, and I remember some of the traps and snares that I learned at one of the stations during training. I begin weaving a complex trap that will leave an attacker dangling. At first, I have trouble with all the intricacies, but soon I remember most of the steps, and when memory fails, I improvise. The tying and weaving calm me down and remind me of days in District 4 when I helped my mother and father with their fish nets. When I finish, I come out with a fairly good snare, and the Gamemakers seem slightly pleased.

For a while I just look around, but then the Head Gamemaker says, "You are dismissed, Miss Maris." I bow, and then walk out the door.

After I leave the gymnasium, I walk to the elevator and press 4. With a ding I'm going up, until the doors open at my floor. I feel strange inside, almost uncaring, impassive. The private training scores go up tonight, and I doubt that I'll get a very high score. Then why do I feel so…unemotional?

As I arrive in my room, I order some food. Dinner isn't for another two or three hours, and I'm hungry. For a while, I just pace and stroll about my room. I'm bored, and there doesn't seem to be any source of entertainment that I can partake in. Finally, after I grow tired of pacing, I just plop down on one of the armchairs and sit.

For a while I just sit, absently nibbling on a piece of pita bread with olives. Staring at the far corner of the wall, a strange shade of red. It only reminds me of the bloodbath that I'll be placed in in three days. My mind is like a circuit today. I think of something, an idea or thought, and it goes in a loop until it reaches the arena. After that the cycle begins again, always coming back to the Hunger Games. Three days. That's how long until I'll be dropped into the arena and left to be slaughtered by the Careers, and most likely Morgan.

God, my life is really messed up. A 16-year-old girl should not be counting the days until her demise.

And suddenly I break down. Completely. Fall to pieces. I roll on the floor, crying and shrieking and whimpering, until I remember. The cameras.

I forgot the about cameras that are surely trained on me this very moment, President Snow most likely sitting behind the monitor screen, watching my break-down. With what, amusement? Anger? What exactly is he gaining by spying on the tributes? The F appears in my mind again, fiery and burning, branding itself into my brain. F, f, f, f. What does it mean? My mind strains for the answer, trying to grasp a tangible thought, one that makes sense. Nothing's coming, though. So I just sit on the floor as my tears dampen the carpet.

When I'm lying on the floor, that feeling comes to me again. Curiousness, inquisitiveness. Like a fire it spreads through my body, filling me with a strange desire. I have to find out what's going on. I'm most likely going to die in two days, so what do I have to lose?

I stand up, and remember the cameras and start to think that it might be suspicious to be seen leaving the room. Of course, whoever is watching the screen in the mysterious room can't read my mind. I could be leaving for an assortment of reasons, all reasonable and acceptable. So, as I walk out the door, I try to look natural, a bit worried and scared, but who wouldn't two days before the Game? The door quietly closes behind me. I hope Morgan hasn't heard my door close, for the last thing I want is him out in the halls with me.

Pressing the big button outside the elevator, I can't help but feel the anxiety. But at the same time, I feel excited, intrigued. For once, I'm actually doing something instead of being cooped up in my room crying my heart out. It feels good, what I'm doing.

The doors ding open, and to my relief no one's inside. I step in and the doors close behind me. I locate the unmarked button and softly press it. For a moment, the elevator is silent, then it rumbles and I'm moving up. With the cold steel walls enclosing me, I feel a bit claustrophobic. Humming softly, I wait for the elevator to halt and the doors to open.

The elevator does stop, but almost immediately I know that something's wrong. That was a remarkably short ride. Last time, it seemed to take longer. Could I have already passed nine floors in that short time period?

My fears are realized when the metal doors stay firmly shut. I'm trapped.

Immediately, panic threatens to overtake me. I feel the pita bread rising in my mouth, but I take a big swallow and keep it down. I try not to hyperventilate, assuring myself that everything's going to be okay. It doesn't help much, but I keep taking deep breaths.

Once I've calmed down slightly, I try to make sense of my situation. The elevator is stuck, probably between floors. I can't help but feel slightly unnerved; this is the Capitol. There are no mistakes. The only thing I can do is wait until a maintenance crew fixes the problem. No knowing how long that's going to take.

As I look at the buttons again, I notice one near the bottom, red with the word EMERGENCY on it. Without hesitation I press it. I have no idea what it does exactly, but I think it probably just raises an alarm. Hopefully it will bring the maintenance crew into action. I don't want to miss dinner.

I wait probably fifteen minutes, when a voice comes from inside the elevator. I finally notice microphone spots in the corners of the elevator. The voice is of a calm, collected male.

"Hello? Who's there? Do not worry, we're know you're in there and are going to get you out."

"It's me! It's Hiriam Maris! I'm here!"

There's the sound of a struggle and I hear some faint words. Suddenly a panicked Herman speaks into the microphone.

"Hiriam? Hiriam! Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine. Don't worry, Herman, I'm okay."

The microphone crackles. "Listen, Hiriam, a maintenance crew is trying to fix the elevator as we speak. Just hang tight, we'll get you out of here."

"I know, I know." I can't help but hear the despair in my voice as I speak these words.

Once again the microphone crackles and stars buzzing. I faintly hear the worried voice of Herman, but I can't make out the words.

"What? Herman, are you there? I can't hear you!"

The microphone makes more noises, like hisses and pops. When I do hear Herman again, the words are faint and barely audible.

"Hiriam! Are you still there? Stay with me!"

A huge buzzing overcomes Herman's high-pitched voice, and I start yelling in the elevator. There are more words, but I can't make them out.

"Herman? Hello? I can't hear you!"

There's a loud pop, and the microphone goes dead. I break down and cry.

For almost fifteen minutes I lie on the soft, carpeted floor and cry my heart out. I vent all my anger, frustration, and fear into these salty tears, and soon there's a damp spot where my head lays.

The water is all gone from me now. I feel exhausted, but scared. Claustrophobic. It's not an extreme phobia for me, but today it feels different. As if I'm trapped in the belly of a steel beast. The warm air circulating around me could certainly be its hot, smelly breath, as the buttons could easily be its many unblinking eyes, staring at me.

_I'm losing it_, I think to myself. _Keep it together, Hiriam_.

My eyelids begin to droop. I curl into a ball and slowly close my eyes. The darkness frightens me, and in a flash they're open again. But they just won't stay there.

_Stay open_, I think,_ stay open, stay op-_

I drop to sleep on the belly of the metal beast. A deep, dreamless sleep…

The microphone wakes me up.

"Hiriam!" Herman is shouting. "Hiriam, are you there?"

Groggily, I open my eyes, and suddenly remember where I am.

"Yes, Yes! I'm here!"

"Good. Okay, listen. They fixed the microphone as you can see, and the maintenance crew thinks they've fixed the elevator too. It was some kind of electronic trouble. Just press the 4 button once, no more. Do not hammer on it. Hopefully, the elevator will start up again, but if it doesn't tell us. We're waiting for you on your floor."

I smile and walk over to the buttons. Carefully, I press the button with the 4 on it, as instructed. For a second, the elevator stays still. Then it gives a mighty groan and clunks into action. It moves down at a surprising speed, then stops. The doors creak, then ding, and they open. I'm suddenly staring at a triumphant Herman.

"Hiriam! Thank goodness! I was so worried!"

I start to step out of the elevator, when I notice it, in the corner. I can't believe I didn't see it before. A blinking red dot. A camera. To anybody else, it would seem completely innocuous. But to me it says that President Snow knows that I was in his secret room. It's then that realize, that this whole thing was intentional. A punishment for me. I almost faint again.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

For the past half hour, I've been sitting in the velvet armchair, petrified at the thought that President Jonathan Snow knows I've visited the monitor room. It's obvious he does; my elevator ride proves that. Most likely, President Snow saw me on his monitor screen in the elevator, reaching for the button that leads to the room. There, he somehow messed with the elevator through his monitor screen, and trapped me in the elevator. Why didn't he just kill me instead?

Because then they'd need another tribute from District 4. And with the Games in less than two days, they don't have that time. No, he was doing something else. Scaring me. Showing that there are repercussions to what I did.

_ Calm down, Hiriam, you're getting paranoid. There isn't much evidence to support your theory. How did he even know someone had been in the room? You're overreacting._

I think back to my time in the camera room, thinking if I left any evidence. I replaced the wallet wedged between the door and the wall. I didn't touch anything except for the clipboard, but I replaced it carefully. Had he noticed its slight movement?

I feel extremely stupid and terrified when I realize that there must have been cameras in the room itself. Obviously that's how he figured out that it was me!

Herman knocks on my door, interrupting my train of thought. Dinner. I close my eyes for a few seconds, then get up and go down the hall to the dining room. Herman and my prep team are the only people sitting at the table.

"Where is everybody?" I ask Herman.

He chews on some roast pork, then responds. "Toris is finishing up your interview dress, Morgan is coming, and Hadrian is in his room, high on morphling."

"Morphling?" I say, raising an eyebrow. I hadn't known that Hadrian was an addict. He looked so healthy.

"Been using it ever since after he won the Games. He says it helps him relax." Herman sips at his blood red wine, then looks up from his mashed parsley potatoes to the door. "Oh, hello Morgan."

Morgan just nods and sits down, piling his plate with food. Ever since the incident in the lunchroom, we haven't spoken, but once in a while I catch him glaring at me.

"So," Herman says in a cheery voice. "Training scores. They'll be on in a few minutes. How did it go?"

"Okay," I say. "I threw the spear and tied a snare."

"Morgan?" Herman asks him.

"Sword-fought, did some hand to hand combat. Then I bludgeoned some dummies with a club."

"That's…nice," Herman finally says, uneasy at Morgan's ferocious offhand comments.

The TV blinks on. It starts right with the picture of the tribute, while their score shows beneath it. The tributes from District 1 both get nines; the female from District 2 gets a four, while the male scores an eleven. I make note of the face, and remind myself to stay away from him. Next, the female tribute from 3 scores an eight, and the male tribute scores another surprisingly high eleven. I take a mental snapshot and store it in my brain's dangerous enemies receptacle.

Then it's me. I pull a seven, which is about what I was expecting. This might actually benefit me, for the other tributes might wait to attach me until after the more dangerous opponents are disposed of. More time to live.

Morgan's face shows on the screen, and underneath flashes an eight. I can tell by the look of fury on his face that he's not happy.

Next is District 5, and so on. Most people get sevens like me, while others score higher. When the District 12 male gets a twelve—the best score possible—I start to get worried. Never before have I seen a twelve. Elevens are rare, but happen—I remember from the reruns of the 74th Hunger Games on TV, another District 12 female got one—but twelve's are deemed unobtainable. Impossible. Unable to reach. I know that the boy from District 12, Kale, I think it is, is going to be the first one hunted by the Careers. That will distract them, and Morgan, from me. At least for a while.

"Well, there you go. I recommend you go to bed. Interview prep tomorrow. I'll be assisting you in style and how to appropriately walk and address the audience, while Hadrian will help with the content of your interviews. Start thinking about a style to adopt for the interview. Ferocious, sweet, humble, and such."

I nod, trying to think of a style for myself. Morgan will surely be brutal and bloodthirsty, but I'm still not sure about me. Sweet? Humble, maybe?

I obey Herman's advice and head to my room. It's warm in here, comfortable and soft. I take a steaming shower with a mixture of body perfumes and shampoos, then put on some fluffy pajamas and go directly to bed. Amazingly, as soon as I hit the pillow, I'm asleep.

My dreams that night are strange. I'm standing on a rocky hillside, looking down at a field of brilliant, vivid, butterflies. They flit across the flatlands, but soon swarm to the top of the hill where I stand. I run for cover, but the butterflies are everywhere. As soon as they touch my skin, they dissolve into multicolored blood. I scream, and suddenly I'm back in the elevator, except it's moving, but fast, never stopping. I press the buttons in panic, but the elevator just plummets into oblivion, the ride never ending… Then I'm watching polar bears performing stand-up comedy, and on the outside of the door, there's a knocking, and the pink and green polar bear goes to answer it.

"Hiriam! Hiriam!"

My eyes jerk open and I look around in panic.

"Hiriam! Will you _please_ answer me!"

I sigh in relief. Only Herman. No butterflies or elevators or polar bears.

"Don't worry Herman, I'm awake," I say as I get out of bed and stretch.

"Good. Now hurry to the dining room so we can eat and prep for the interviews."

I hurriedly get dressed and head to breakfast. Right after I arrive, Morgan and Hadrian walk in. Hadrian looks out of sorts and confused.

"Hangover," Herman whispers in my ear. "Too much alcohol and morphling last night."

I nod and start eating some raspberry muffins with hot chocolate. I'm scheduled with Herman for presentation first, then with Hadrian. I'm dreading discussing my interview approach with a morphling addict, but I really have no choice.

Breakfast is short, and before I know it, Herman is whisking me away. He immediately drills me on the proper way to walk, talk, cross my legs, and basically just manage myself in public. It's not particularly hard, but it's tedious and long. After the four hours I have scheduled, I find myself exhausted.

"Good work, Hiriam. Thanks for being so patient," Herman says as he dismisses me.

"No problem," I reply.

And then it's content with Hadrian.

As soon as I walk into the door, Hadrian waves his hand dismissively.

"What?" I say questioningly.

When he talks, his speech is slightly slurred.

"Just leave," Hadrian says.

"What?" I respond incredulously. I'm scheduled for four hours with this drunk!

"I have a extreme hangover, and I don't want your attitude to make it worse. Just get out."

"What are you talking about? This is your _job_!"

"Leave. Just go."

My face grows hot with rage. "Oh, so you can help Morgan, but when it comes down to me-"

"Yes," he cuts me off. "I don't want to deal with you."

This comes like a slap in the face. I feel fury rising in me.

"Fine, you can just sit here and stew in your morphling and liquor. I don't need your help!"

I turn on my heel and walk out the door, feeling rage overtaking me. I slam the door shut behind me, and hear the hinges groan in protest. Before I realize it, I have stomped my way into the room, and then let off a huge scream. I begin to throw things around the room, smashing glasses and tearing apart pillows. Finally I collapse on the floor from exhaustion.

Before I know it, I'm back asleep, and the butterflies, this time bearing fangs, are back, too. I scream and thrash about on the floor, as the colorful beasts swarm me. This time, they turn into acid, burning my flesh. Soon my arms are nothing but bone picked clean. Four butterflies attach themselves to my face, and I feel the skin begin to melt like candle wax and I scream in pain and agony. The scene shifts to a cloudy mountaintop, where I stand, alone. I hear something rustling behind me, and I see Kale from District 12 emerge form the bushes, bearing a weapon that I perceive, but can't really see. He smiles, and the weapon flashes downward, but before it can pierce my head, I wake up.

A piece of glass is sticking into my back. I sit up and, wincing from the pain, remove the clear shard from my back. It's bloody when I remove it, and I feel the wound begin to bleed slightly too. I find some bandages in the room and carefully apply them on the dripping cut.

When I look at the clock on the wall, it's already six o' clock. Dinner will be soon. Maybe Herman can help me with my interview.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Herman knocks on my door and announces that it's dinner.

The meal is lackluster. The food, as usual, is fantastic, but everyone seems to be in a bad mood. Herman from instructing a stubborn Morgan, Morgan from being forced to participate in four hours of Herman instructing him, and Hadrian is still nursing his hangover. Everybody eats in silence.

"Don't forget," Herman says listlessly. "Interviews tomorrow."

I was planning on asking Herman to help with my interview content, but I think it'd be a bad idea in the state he's in. So instead I retreat to my room and sleep.

I wake up multiple times in the night, thinking that Kale is by my bed, ready to bring his weapon crashing down on my head. After many encounters with this figment, I get out of bed and walk around the room. For a long time I pace, thinking of the upcoming interviews, and more importantly, the Games. Tomorrow will be my last day sleeping in this room. Then I'll be dropped into the arena and left for dead.

Eventually, fatigue wins out, and I return to the realm of sleep. No more butterflies haunt me, but instead there's an enormous wave, threatening to wipe me and Phinish and Isabelle, who are with me at the beach, into the deep waters of the sea. I fight for breath while trying to save the twins, but its no use, and they only weigh me down. Soon, they are lost in the abyss, leaving me alone into the rolling waters, my tears mixing with the salty water.

I wake up to a brilliant dawn. I sit in bed and watch for hours, until Herman knocks, with the expected announcement of breakfast. After that, I'll meet with Toris and my prep team and get into my interview dress. I hope it won't go too badly.

Breakfast flies by, and before I know it, Ilona, Benedicta, and Keeley are working on me. This only takes about fifteen minutes, and Toris comes in immediately after with my dress in his hands. Gently, he unfolds it, and I stare greedily at the rich green dress. It's shorter than my last one, and goes down to about my ankles. It has short sleeves, cut in the shape of rolling waves, much like my last dress. This one is simple, yet elegant. I like it very much, but know that it will still probably be no match for District 1.

Toris hands me the dress and I put it on. Ilona then places another wreath, this time made of seashells, around my head as Keeley places a blue necklace on my neck.

"Done," my prep team says all at once.

I can't help but notice the finality in their words, as if their job is finished, and they are ready to send me off to the slaughterhouse. I push back that idea. My prep team is about as nice as they come, and would never think like that.

"Well then," Toris says, "Off to the stage. District 1 will start in about ten minutes."

We walk to the stage; the balconies lining it packed to the brim with stylists, Gamemakers, and Capitol citizens waiting in line since dawn. I feel breathless by the sheer amount of people come to watch us tributes. It doesn't help my anxiety in the least.

Sebastian Flickerman, the interviewer since his father passed away, walks on, wearing a magenta tuxedo with a flowing purple scarf and acid green sunglasses. He has a vibrant shade of purple lipstick applied, and his orange and black hair is done up in spikes, and at the back just hangs down to his shoulders. Sebastian is the best example of the outrageous Capitol fashion, and one of the most imitated within the society. As he walks, he waves and blows kisses to the crowd, who shout his name and wave. Finally he sits down, chats and tells jokes for a minute or two, then motions for the District 1 female to come on.

She's wearing a slivery white dress, with simple blue lipstick and eye shadow. Whenever she walks, her dress shimmers like diamonds. I find myself staring with my mouth wide open for the entire three minutes she has. As she walks off, I can't help but be reminded of a beautiful swan.

District 1 male. He's playing up his brutishness. District 2. The fierce male keeps rising and shouting his answers to the audience as if all his words are battle cries. District 3 female, a mix of mystique and danger. And then the District 3 male steps on.

Sebastian starts chatting with him—Andrei, I think it is-who seems a little disconcerted but having fun. When the topic turns to his eleven, things get interesting.

"So, Andrei," Sebastian says conspiratorially, "what exactly did you do to receive such a high score?"

Andrei smiles. "Well, something like this…"

He suddenly throws of his electronic jacket, and strapped to his chest are two bombs. The audience takes a collective gasp. Andrei reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a match, as Sebastian stands up and tries to stop him. It's too late though, and Andrei lights the two fuses. For a moment, nothing happens; then, out of the top of the bombs burst colorful sparks, exploding into the sky. I recognize them as fireworks; occasionally District 4 would set them off on holidays. As the audience and Sebastian realize what's going on, they start laughing, and people start clapping. The buzzer dings, indicating the end of the three minutes, but Andrei just stays there, looking happily at the sky. Finally, Sebastian has to tell him he has to go.

And then it's me.

I hear my name shouted and wobbly walk up to the interview chair. Sebastian smiles at me as I take my seat.

For a while he makes some jokes about sea life and water, which I laugh at despite them not making sense to me. Then he moves onto the questions.

"So Hiriam, how's the Capitol been?"

I struggle for words. "F-fine."

"How does it differ from District 4?"

"Um, elevators."

Sometimes I can be the stupidest person in Panem. Sebastian laughs though, and the audience follows weakly in.

"So Hiriam, what is your greatest strength in the arena? Do have any sort of special expertise?"

I clear my throat. "Well, I can, and, uh, well, I can throw."

"Throw? Like what? A spear?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, that is interesting. Is their anything else you'd like to add?"

I try to think of something, a clever little line, _anything_, but nothing comes.

"Thanks for the…food. It was delicious.'

An awkward silence falls on the crowd, interrupted the ring of a buzzer.

"Well there you have her, Hiriam Maris form District 4. Now, onto Morgan Kellick!"

I slump back in my chair, feeling like a complete idiot. If I had ever had any sponsors, they're gone now. Just threw them away. Why am I the only one without anything interesting to say?

Of course, it's Hadrian. If he had even been half a mentor, he could've helped me find a style, a few snappy little sentences. He can help Morgan, but when it comes down to me, nothing doing. What luck.

They're on District 7 now. I try to focus on the interviews, weighing my chance against the other tributes. There are a few other girls and boys who got a lower score then me, but really training scores are nothing to go by. Often somebody will pretend they're weak and pathetic so that the other tributes will go after bigger threats. I hope that's what they do with me, but with Morgan with the Careers, I'm not so sure.

The districts fly by. No one seems especially dangerous or brutal. Andrei, the boy from District 2, and Kale from 12 all have the highest training scores, and I find myself wondering what they all did to impress the judges. I remember Andrei said something about it when he revealed the two bombs strapped to his chest. He had done "something like this," apparently. What, had he made a bomb? That's extremely unlikely unless he made it out of some weapon, which is even more unlikely, and even if he _had_, surely he would of gotten a 12. Besides, Andrei is a little bit strange, smiling one moment, screaming at a wall the next. I have no idea what exactly goes on in his head.

They call the girl from District 12, Lucy. As she chats with Sebastian, I can't help but notice her sunny, friendly demeanor. I've seen her around occasionally, and she always seemed so nice. I never really thought about the idea of allies, but I'd want her with me if I had. She got a good training score too; I think it was a nine. It's too late now though, with the tributes going into the arena tomorrow. Maybe if I could met up with her alone…

The buzzer dings and Lucy walks off the platform. Sebastian Flickerman calls Kale Hawthorne up to the stage. He walks up looking sullen an ferocious. I shudder as I remember my dreams.

Sebastian tries to strike up a conversation, but his attempts quickly die when Kale just stares back at him, looking amused. The crowd is shushed, all leaning in to glimpse this man. Finally, Sebastian brings up his score. Twelve. The very best score possible.

"What exactly are your abilities? You must be exceptional at something; I mean a twelve for Training. That's very admirable…and ferocious."

Kale smiles back at him, as if Sebastian is the stupidest person on earth. "I do everything. I throw. I jab. I knife. I bludgeon. But my best ability must be killing. Just a knack I have."

The crowd is completely still and silent, unnerved by Kale's statement. Even Sebastian looks uncomfortable.

"So, anything else you'd like to add?"

Again, Kale smiles, looks at the crowd, then turns around to face us tributes.

"Yes. I'd just like to say to all of you…don't expect to live for even a day. I'm a good hunter."

The buzzer dings, and Kale stands, and then waves at the audience, a wicked grin on his face. Sebastian looks uncomfortably at the audience. "Well, there you have him, Kale Hawthorne form District 12! And that concludes our interviews! Don't forget to tune in tomorrow for the start of the 125th annual Hunger Games!"

Cheering erupts form the crowd, and the tributes stand up and depart the stage. We walk back to the Training Center and to the elevator. It's crowded with tributes in strange, mostly unattractive, attire. Thankfully I'm on the 5th floor, so I don't have to spend very much time with the menagerie of bizarre costumes. The elevator moves up and stops first at floor 2, then three, four, and finally five. I thankfully step out of it and retreat to my solitary room. I decide not to go down to dinner tonight, instead getting food from my room. I eat juicy roast beef dowsed in delicious, flavorful gravy, have some bread sprinkled with a myriad of different spices, and finally some citrusy drink that tastes like oranges and lemons and limes all at the same time. By the end of my meal, I'm stuffed and drowsy, so I head straight for bed.

I can't get to sleep. Can't stop thinking of the Hunger Games, what weapons there will be, what landscape it'll be. Despite being tired earlier, I'm wide-awake now, thinking of the Careers and Kale and all the other tributes that want me dead. There's only one victor, and in the Games, moral compasses are abandoned. Nobody wants to die, be killed brutally in front of the nation of Panem, so we all instead aim to kill each other. Some call it self-defense. Others call it murder.

What will I do in the Games? I have no strategy whatsoever. Maybe dash to the Cornucopia, grab a weapon. Hopefully the other tributes will be focused on killing more dangerous opponents. After I get out, if I can, I'll run far, find a hiding place, sleep. Hope I'm not dead by morning. Can I even kill? Sure, I've netted and speared fish, but humans are a huge step up. Am I doomed to just stand paralyzed contemplating murder as another tribute comes and slices me in the gut? Leave Phinish and Isabelle without an older sister? Who will take care of them when I'm gone and mother and father are out fishing? They're only six years old, not old enough to handle themselves.

I shove that thought out of my mind and once more think of strategies. Run to the Cornucopia, grab a weapon. The last thing I want to do is get caught in the bloodbath, so it's essential I'm there and then gone. I'll have to be quick. I'm pretty fast, but I'm sure other tributes are faster. Maybe I should just run and hide, not risk getting a weapon. Better chance of surviving the first day, but really will this help when I'm alone and weaponless, practically begging for someone to kill me? No, I have to get a weapon, even if it's just a dagger. What I'm really hoping for is a fishing harpoon. I could catch food and defend myself if need be. I've never seen one in any of the Games though, so my chances are slim. They might have spears. I remember that the worst weapons are the farthest away from the enormous golden horn, while the best are usually closest. A spear might be n the middle. If I could dash, and grab it, and run, I might have a chance.

I turn over and try to sleep, steady my rapidly beating heart. I'm so nervous, scared, anxious, worried. I look at the clock on the wall. One o'clock.

I lie on my side, take deep, even breaths, trying to find any hint of drowsiness… I start to drift off…I see the sun and a red balloon gently rising in the air…a tree waves it's heavy branches in the caressing wind…a cat climbs on a rocking chair and flicks it tail…clouds move over me…

I don't know how long I sleep; just that I wake up at four o'clock. Groggily I look up and remember I'll be woken at seven. Three more hours of sleep. And nightmares.

Kale haunts me the rest of the early morning. Creeping around, with Morgan behind him, stalking me with brutal weapons in their hands. I run and hide, but whenever I turn around, both of them are there, smiling in amusement. They hunt me, cut me, but there isn't even death for release. Never do they kill me, just carve my face with sharp knives, cut off my fingers one by one, bash my legs with sharp rocks…it never ends. I wake up screaming.

Toris knocks at the door and comes in. It's time. He leads me to the roof as we wait for a hovercraft to appear and take me to underneath the arena, where I'll be outfitted in the special suit all tributes must wear. Without a sound it arrives, and a ladder drops down. As soon as I touch it, I am frozen to it by some kind of current. They pull me up, where a man is waiting with a syringe.

"Just trackers, Hiriam, so that we'll be able to monitor you at all times." He lifts up my sleeve and injects the tracker into my forearm. I feel the sharp pain, but then it's over.

Toris is brought up, and we wait in silence to arrive at the arena. I can't register how long it takes; about an hour, I think. Then both Toris and me climb down the ladder into a tube that leads to under the arena.

We arrive in the Launch Room. Toris hands me my outfit. A leather jerkin and pants and a belt with skintight black undergarments beneath. Toris pulls out some short boots and tells me to put them on.

"Any ideas on the arena?" I ask him nervously.

"Well," he responds. "The skintight undergarments are for preserving body heat, but in warm weather it will keep you cool too. I'm thinking some temperate, cool, climate. Might be a forest."

I nod. It's almost time for me to step onto the metal plate that will ascend and put me in the arena.

"Just…" Toris says awkwardly. "Be careful."

I nod, and he motions toward the plate. It's time.

The plate rises through the dark, and then it erupts into the open air. I'm in a clearing, surrounded by enormous, thick trees. Ahead of me, the Cornucopia gleams in the sunlight.

I hear the voice of Arius Marsallas, the official Hunger Games announcer, speaking so loud that the words vibrate through my bones.

"Ladies and gentleman let the 125th Hunger Games begin!"


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note-** Hey readers! Thank you so much for checking out my Fan Fiction. Please review! I've been working hard on this for a long time. Please validate my lost time! And also thanks to **eac12897 **for pointing out that District Three isn't part of the Career pack. My weak answer is that they are in this time period! Anyway, thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 6

I stare at the other twenty-three tributes, as I wait for the required sixty seconds to elapse. I see Morgan, only three plates away from me, eyeing the Cornucopia greedily. I don't know what went through is brain, but he suddenly picks up his legs and sprints toward the golden horn, wanting to get the first pick of the weapons. He doesn't make it.

As soon as his toe touches the ground, five mines explode beneath him, and blood and guts and body parts erupt into the air like a volcano. I feel a few warm, thick drops of blood hit my hand, and smell the metallic, sickly remains of Morgan. Everybody is looking at the ground where Morgan last stepped, repulsed by the pool of blood soaking the hard packed dirt, a few fingers floating in it.

Not me. The gong sounds, and I know I have to get out of here as quick as I can. I sprint toward the Cornucopia and see a pile of spears close by. Everybody seems dazed and disconcerted by the strange turn of events, and no one has moved from their plates yet. Except Kale. I see him running toward the center of the Cornucopia, eyeing a miners' pickaxe. Fear shoots through me as I grab two spears and keep my eye trained on him. Kale has already located me and picked up a hatchet, and it flies through the air toward me. I quickly duck, and the blade embeds itself into the fine mesh of the horn. I see him reach for the pick now, and I know that if he gets another shot at me, he won't miss. I pick up a stray canteen and holding onto my two spears, flee into the thick woods beyond.

Now's the part when I have no idea what to do. I turn around and see Kale still picking through the Cornucopia. By now, the other tributes have mobilized and most are racing toward weapons. A few immediately turn and head to the woods. One boy grabs a weapon, a sword, and runs toward where I stand momentarily concealed. What can I do? I have nowhere to hide. The tribute, the boy from District 7, will be on me any minute. I have to do something.

_The trees_. That answer shoots through me immediately. I scramble up the nearest one, holding both of my spears in one hand. As I ascend, I drop my canteen. I can't go back for it now; the boy will surely kill me. So I just focus on my hands and the branches, climbing higher and higher. As I climb, I realize this is the ideal spot; the other tributes will believe that I grabbed my weapons and ran far away, hoping to elude them. Instead, I'm hiding in plain sight, 200 meters from the bloodbath.

_The bloodbath_. It would do me good to watch, see who lives and who dies, what I'm up against. I turn and cautiously peek out of the leaves, and see the fierce battle that's taking place.

I see the boy from District 2, Octavian, holding two long, curved, extremely sharp hooks. They gleam in his hands, and he immediately slits the throat of District 5 boy who's trying to get a weapon. The body falls and Octavian turns back to the Cornucopia and starts foraging for other materials, such as food. A group of Careers surround him and watch his back, throwing knives and hatchets at other tributes. I watch two girls, from 9 and 8, go down, staining the ground beneath them red. But even more disturbingly, I glimpse Lucy from 12 running toward the woods, two daggers in her hands. Behind her is Kale with his pickaxe. With all his strength, he throws it at Lucy, and it buries itself in her leg. She stumbles and falls, as Kale goes in for the kill.

I want to help, but I know I can't. Even if I could get down in time, Kale would most likely just kill both of us. Luckily, Lucy stays on top of the things and, wincing in pain, pulls the pick from her leg, turns, and throws a knife. It misses, but gives her a lead as she runs, well, limps, into the woods. Kale starts to give chase, but I see the Careers, Octavian leading, running toward him. Trying to get rid of the most dangerous opponent.

Kale turns, and immediately a barrage of knives fly at him along with a stray arrow. He ducks and then rolls on the grass floor behind a tree. He grabs his pickaxe lying on the ground, and then digs into the pocket of his jerkin. He pulls out a small ball and a match. A bomb. And I realize that this was meant for Andrei.

He lights the fuse and throws it into the Careers. Octavian shouts for them to run, but one of them, the boy from District 1, responds to it too late. And for the second time in five minutes, I see someone explode in a cloud of blood.

The Careers glance behind but keep moving away from Kale. He doesn't follow, instead laughs. I turn my attention back to the Cornucopia, and see that a battle is still going on there. The Career pack has reemerged from the woods and start attacking the tributes at the horn again. The girl from District 2 pulls out a bow and retrieves some arrows from her quiver. Two go down, and one is wounded. A mace flies from the hand of the girl from 1, piercing the stomach of the by from 11. The rest of the tributes have scattered into the woods on all sides of the Cornucopia. Soon, only the Career pack is left, picking through the rest of the meager supplies. Soon, they too depart.

Finally, the cannons for the dead go off. I count eight shots; they must have included Morgan. Sixteen tributes left.

I wait in the tree for a long time, until thirst and hunger kick in. All the other tributes have departed by now, so I think it's safe to come down from the tree. I need to find water. Maybe I'll see some game along the way.

The night is starting to fall as I quietly descend the tree. I know that I've waited too long; I should have left a while ago. The Careers will be prowling about tonight certainly, looking for Kale and killing anyone in their way. I hope that they don't find me. They did go to the other side of the Cornucopia, the other side of the forest. Still, I'll have to be careful. Kale—and any other tribute for that matter—could be hiding anywhere, waiting for a stray tribute to come their way.

The forest is alive with the chitter of strange insects. It's comforting in a way though; silence would be much more unnerving. I jump down from a low branch and hit the hard dirt ground. Turning my head right and left, I survey the land for any sign of tributes. I see footprints, embedded deep into the ground, leading far into the recesses of the forest. Not wanting to take my chances, I veer right of the footprints, with my spears in hand. I notice my canteen lying on the ground and pick it up, tying it onto my belt with some strangely strong lichen attached to the tree branches. I'm starting to feel my thirst in full effect; my lips and throat are dry, but I'm still producing some saliva.

The forest has grown dark, and everything feels strange and foreign to me. In District 4, we don't have any forests, only long sandy stretches of beaches and clear water everywhere. It feels strange to be here, and I start to grow worried that some tribute is tracking me down. I look to the ground and see my footprints, screaming to be found. I take off my boots and step lightly from now on.

After walking a good 15 minutes, I take a rest and cock my head to listen for the sound of running water. I hear nothing but the incessant clicking and chattering of the droves of insects hidden inside the thick forest. Overhead, an owl hoots in the night, and I suddenly feel very tired. But I need water, and this isn't a good place to camp for the night. I wish I had picked through the Cornucopia again for camping material, but it's probably all gone anyway, whisked away by the Careers, Kale, and whatever other tributes survived the initial battle.

The ground turns to a slight downhill. A myriad of different mosses and plants grow thick on the floor, and I keep an eye out for any edible berries. I see nothing, but I suddenly hear, not very far away, the call of some kind of fowl. I lift my spear and quietly tread toward the noise, hoping for dinner. But by the time I reach the spot that I heard the bird, it's gone. Disappointed, hungry, tired, and above all, thirsty, I sit despondently on the ground, my hand under my chin. My throat is parched, and my stomach is rumbling. So much for your plan to find water.

The crackle of leaves brings me to attention. Cautiously I gaze around where I sit, hoping that it's only a bird or something. My inner senses begin to doubt that.

There's no sight or sound of anything, beast or human, but I'm still wary. Walking very carefully, I move forward slowly, keeping watch on all sides. My breath has turned short and shallow, and the insects seemed to have quieted, creating a silent, deadly atmosphere. A chill, biting wind stats flowing through the tree, blowing my hair to the side of my face. I continue walking forward through the thick trees, intent on finding water, food, and a place to spend the night. I constantly look behind me, but there's never anyone there.

It seems that I go on walking for hours. The suns sinks and a sliver of a moon appears, silver and icy hanging suspended in the sky. Fatigue is starting to take over my body, but I'm hungry and thirsty, and I need to keep moving. The temperature is dropping rapidly, and soon I can see my breath in the air, vaporous and foggy. My stomach has started to cramp up, and I'm feeling pain shooting through my shoulder. I am about ready to collapse when the leaves behind me crackle again. My eyes widen, and I quickly turn around, long enough to catch a knife in my forearm.

The pain is instantaneous. Stabs of needles shoot through my entire arm, blinding me. I want to collapse and ignore the world, but someone's behind me, waiting to take me out. Aiming a knife at the back of my head. I have to get out.

Ignoring the pain, I spin around and glimpse the boy form District 9, armed with four knives and, two raised above his head. I take one of my spears and swing it at him with my good arm. The shaft knocks into his chest and he flies backwards and hits the ground. I drop one of my spears and poise the other over the tribute's chest. He looks up at me, his eyes piercing my chest deeper than any knife could. The look of fear, pleading. My spear wavers in the air. I can't do it.

Something suddenly whizzes through the air, glinting in the sable sky. I have just enough time to duck as another knife lodges itself into the tree behind me. Another tribute.

I barely have time to register this thought when the boy on the ground throws himself at me, a knife in his teeth. As he comes toward me, I kick him in the chest, right where the spear hit him. He stumbles back, gasping for air as the girl from District 10 starts running at me, a hatchet in one hand, a knife in the other. The knife soars toward my head, but I duck just in time. I grab my other spear on the ground and turn, my legs a blur beneath me. I hear the boy and the girl running after me; hear them yelling obscenities and curses at me. I keep my eyes focused ahead, running and ducking through the thick trees. An owl hoots again, and the insects have started up again. My mind is panicking, knowing that two murderous tributes are chasing after me, hungry for blood.

"Run! Get her!" It's the girl who yells this as the hatchet comes flying toward me, whipping through the frozen air. I can't see it, but can feel the danger, hear the sound as it nears my back. I fall sideways, and hit the dirt floor, and the hatchet nicks my arm. The pain isn't as intense, but I feel it and it's slowing me down. Both of the tributes are in hot pursuit, and adrenaline shoots through my system. I sprint forward, teeth gritted, my spears rattling.

I'm not fast enough. The boy is suddenly next to me. He pushes me down to the ground and fingers his knife. He leans down, and I can feel his hot breath and see the cold metal waiting to rip my flesh.

"Get off me! Get off me!" I scream as the knife graces my skin. I start to lift up my spear, but the girl is already behind me, pinning my arms. She smiles and laughs as she sees the look on my face. "Don't worry," she says, still smiling. "We'll make this relatively painless. Just think what the Careers would do to you? No, you were never in the game anyway. In a sense, we're doing you a favor."

In response, I clamp my teeth down hard on her hand. I can taste the warm blood, and the girl starts screaming and releases my arms. I have a split second, and I make the most of it. Grabbing my spear with my free hand, I jab the point into the boy's stomach. Immediately, he jumps off me in pain, blood starting to flow from his small wound, the knife landing on the ground next to me. I grab it and shove it into my belt, as the girl stumbles toward me. I swing my spear and it hits her across the face, and I watch her crumple onto the ground, unconscious. The boy appears behind me, and with another hit, he's out too. For a moment I stand over the bodies, breathing heavily. _Not in the game, am I?_

I can't stand and gloat, though. I don't think I can kill the tributes at my feet, so I'll have to just trudge on. Fear and adrenaline had kept me from feeling my hunger, thirst, and fatigue, but they're all back now. I need to find at least a place to rest, far away from these two. I look forward and run.

For a long time, that's all I do. Run and run and run. Never ending. The night grows darker and quieter, but I don't look back. My destination lies ahead.

That's when I come to it, tired, exhausted, and very thirsty. I'm standing in a clearing like the Cornucopia, expect flanking both sides are two tall, run-down, decrepit buildings, at least three stories high. I've never seen anything like this in the Games before. Could it be a death trap? I don't see any other tributes around, and isn't this the ideal place to spend the night? Wary, I slowly walk up to the old door. Carefully, I push it in and stare into the shadows of the house. The windows are boarded up, and there's no light switch. Anybody or anything could be waiting in the darkness for some foolish tribute. Should I leave? No, this is my best bet, only bet. I'll have to stay here tonight, even if I might be dead by morning. I close the door behind me, and in the blackness see bent, crooked, and cracked stairs. I slowly test my weight on the first step. It groans, but doesn't give way. So very carefully, I make my way up it step by step. Soon I've reached the second floor, a bare, musty room with a small window at the side. There's another staircase on this level too, so I make my way up it.

The top floor is the same too, except that the window is bigger. That's when I see in the corner, neatly wrapped up, a piece of meat, a canteen filled with water, and a tidily folded wool blanket.

I gasp for a moment then raise my spear, anticipating an attack. But no one leaps out of the darkness or screams. Then why are these objects here if another tribute isn't? Everything looks untouched, and the jug is full, and the meat has no bite marks on it. And then there's the blanket. What tribute folds a blanket, and if nobody's here, why didn't they take any of these things with them? No, I am the first one here. I figure that the water, blanket, and food are from the Gamemakers for the first person to this run-down house. That's what bothers me though. How am I the first one to find this? Of course, Kale, Lucy, and the knocked out tributes from 9 and 10 were the only ones who traveled through this side of the woods. The Careers could have circled around of course, or cut across the Cornucopia, but I haven't seen any trace of them. Kale most likely would have come by these old tenements. Why didn't he stay? They're ideal conditions. Of course, I hadn't planned to stay at first. Thought it was a death trap. A sinister, Gamemaker trap for anyone stupid enough to set foot in the door. Which would be me.

I don't care though. If this water turns out to be poisoned, then at least I won't die at the hands of any other tribute. I pick up the canteen and unscrew the lid, and slowly take a drink. It's the most delicious thing I've ever had. I don't savor it though, just chug it all down in a long, satisfying gulp.

Next up is the strip of dried meat. I pick it up and take a big bite, and my mouth is suddenly alive with so many flavors, smoke, salt, and beefiness. It's delicious, so I eat it all in one bite.

My thirst and hunger finally somewhat assuaged, I pick up the wool blanket, cover myself in it and lean against the wall. It reminds me of home, watching the rainfall, wrapped in a blanket, warm. I feel severely homesick, but before I can cry, I fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I have no dreams. Well, yes, I do, but they aren't normal. They're nothing. Really. All I see is black mist curling in tendrils, covering my eyes and everything around me. Black mist, floating through the air, silent, dark. It fogs my brain and dulls my senses, entwining me in a thick layer of sable air. Strangely, it's strong, and I can't break out of it, despite its vaporous appearance. I struggle for a while, but then it cradles me to sleep, rocking me gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. And when I finally remember that I'm in the arena, I start to wonder why I am not dead. All around me are the creaky wooden boards, and through the window shines weak sunlight. It must be early in the morning. Just after dawn, I'd say.

I throw the wool blanket off of me, and find the air is surprisingly…agreeable. Not warm, not cold, just…there. I walk to the window and peer out, taking in the dark forest that surrounds me. Any tribute could be hiding within the thick embankment of trees, but I still have to wonder why there's no one in these crumbling tenements. Must still think it's a death trap. Well, let them think that. I'll stay here as long as I can, which could be five minutes or the duration of the Games. I will have to leave to hunt for food and water though, since my meager sources were quickly depleted last night. Thankfully, my belly is still somewhat content with my hasty meal, so I can skip breakfast. But there's no question that I'll have to set out later today and hunt. The last thing I want to do is starve.

A creak sounds from downstairs, quiet, barely audible. Immediately I freeze, listening carefully. Sure enough, I hear the soft footsteps of some tribute. They must have just entered. Two floors underneath me. Soundlessly, I reach for my two spears and carefully step behind a wall where I know I'll be concealed from the tribute's sight. I'll have to be quick, throw true, then put the body somewhere. Immediately I am repulsed by the idea.

Footsteps, coming up the stairs. They're on the second floor. One level away from me, from death. No, I can't think like that. Given the chance, the tribute would kill me too. It's only self-defense.

There's a clumping of boots, so loud that it reverberates through the room. My body tenses, waiting for the tribute to appear. My spears quivers in my right hand.

The tribute emerges from the stairs, and to my surprise I see it's Andrei, the boy from District 3. My spear is about to implant itself in his stomach, when I realize he's not even looking at me. I mean, that was the point of my hiding thing, but this seems different. He's not expecting any attack. In fact, he seems somewhat confused, and is talking to himself, stumbling all over the room. Technically, this is the ideal time for an attack. Quick, clean, done without a struggle. But Andrei seems so helpless and bewildered, and my spear wavers in my strong hand. I remember his interview and all the times I've seen him, and I realize that something's wrong inside. Andrei has a strange brain, and seeing him like this, I can't kill him. What a monster I am for even considering it.

My two spears drop on the ground and clatter and roll on the wood floor. The sound brings Andrei to attention, and he suddenly whips around and faces me. For a moment he looks more confused than ever, but then a wide smile breaks across his face. His eyes seem to light up in recognition.

"Hiriam…Hiriam?" he says quietly. His voice is child-like, high-pitched, despite his age, which I believe to be 16 or 17.

"Yes. Yes, that's me," I respond, picking up my spears on the floor. I have to anticipate any sort of an attack, and in case Andrei does jump me, I'll be ready. However, I see that he's unarmed. Of course, he has a formidable size, and I'm sure he could easily beat me if it came down to hand-to-hand combat. And who knows how many miniature bombs he has in the pockets of his jerkin?

"Oh good. I was worried—well, they were at least—that this place, you know, this place had scary stuff in it. Told me to check it out." He flicks his auburn hair to the side.

"Uh-huh. Of course." I wonder what exactly goes on in Andrei's head, talking to and obeying commands from imaginary people. Still, I feel sympathetic toward him, and he seems completely at ease in my company. It would be horrible to kill him now. I just need to find a way to get rid of him.

Thinking about death suddenly brings me to the realization that I missed the anthem and dead tributes last night. Must have fell right asleep and slept through it. It would be useful to know what tributes live.

"Andrei," I say. "Did you see the anthem and tributes last night? Who's all dead?"

"Shhhh. Just a sec," he says, then looks out the window. He slams his fist into it, and I hear the glass shatter. He suddenly shouts out the window, "Hey! Guys! It's fine! There's nothing here!"

I'm alarmed at Andrei's sudden, unexpected declaration. I know that whoever Andrei's shouting at, they're imaginary. But if there _is_ a tribute lurking in the woods, I don't want to alert them of my position.

"Andrei! Get away from there!"

He turns around. "No, no, really, it's okay. I just have to tell them it's safe."

"No, you're telling every tribute where we are! Do you want to die?"

Andrei looks at me dubiously. "What do you mean? It's just a game."

"What are you—"

Before I can finish, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. A group emerges from the trees, and as soon as I see the reflection of the sun off two metal hooks, I know it's the Careers.

"Andrei," I say firmly, trying to keep my voice level. "We have to get out of here."

"Really, I told you, they're fine. After I ran from the big horn, I found them. Then this morning they told me to check if there's anything bad in here."

"We have to leave," I insist again. "If they catch, they'll kill me, and probably you."

I look out the window again, and see the Careers are pointing and yelling. They've spotted me.

"Andrei, I have to go."

Holding tightly to my spears, I run to the staircase then stop. What am I thinking? The Careers are coming this way right now. I need to find another exit. Panic rising, I survey the room. I see the broken window, and then a boarded one at the back. I'll have to go this way, escape from behind.

I run toward the window, and using my spears and hands, hit and pull away the old boards. They aren't held on very well, and I have little trouble getting them off. I'm about to break the window with a spear, when I feel, Andrei's hand grab my arm.

"Don't go! Really, these guys are nice. They're fine."

"Andrei, let go!" I pull up my spear in my other arm and hit the butt against Andrei's stomach. He recoils, and using this time, I break the glass and climb out the window, peering down. It's a long jump.

I hear the Careers stampeding up the stairs. As I stare at the ground, I notice above the second floor's window, a slanted piece of corrugated metal. There's one above the first story window too. Holding tightly to my two spears, I close my eyes and jump. In three seconds, I slam into the metal, and my spears go clattering over the edge and hit the ground. I'm also sliding, and I desperately try to hang onto the metal. I descend more, and a scream almost escapes my mouth. I'm on the edge, sliding, but I finally get a grasp with my hands on the rim, and I hang there, dread filling my body in its entirety.

For a moment I dangle from the metal edge, assessing my situation. My back and tailbone are badly bruised, and I hear the Careers arriving on the third floor. I have to jump to the next piece of metal, or I'll be killed. I look down again, staring at the metal slant. Taking a deep breath, my fingers let go of the rim, and I'm speeding down through the air.

With a loud thud, my legs hit the metal and go into a crouch. For a moment, I stay there, but my boots start to slip on the smooth surface, and I start sliding again. I'm gliding across the metal, and suddenly falling, as I vaguely register the face of Octavian leaning out the broken window. The last thing I see is a knife flying at me before I hit the earth.

My breath instantly leaves me, and I stare upwards, my eyes wide, pain surging through my entire body. I want to lay here for eternity, staring at the clouds, but I remember the face of Octavian and his gleaming hooks. I have to go.

Slowly, I stand up, my legs groaning in protest. My whole body aches all over. I glimpse my two spears on the ground, and pick them up. Suddenly, two people are at my side.

The girl from District 1,Lillian, grabs me from behind, holding my arms in a tight grip. The girl Neyra from 2 looks at me, grinning and clutching her bow. Behind her is a boy, who I think is from 6. I struggle in vain, trying to break the iron clutch that is ensnaring me, but it's no use.

"Take her back into the crummy house. Octavian and Maize are waiting," Neyra instructs. Lillian nods, and knees me in the back to get me t move.

"Get off of me! Let me go!" I scream, but Lillian just knees me again, harder. "Where the hell are you taking me!"

Neyra laughs. "Octavian's hooks are getting rusty. They're hungry for fresh blood."

My face pales, and I want to cry. I have to be strong, though. I need to find a way to escape.

We've circled from the back and are now at the front door of the run-down building. The girl they called Maize is waiting, clutching a curved sword in her hand.

"They're inside. Take her—" she points her sword at me, "to Octavian. He's sharpening his weapons."

"Wait," Lillian says. "Octavian said I get to kill Andrei. Is he here?"

Maize smiles. "Tied up in the corner. All you need is a ribbon. Happy birthday."

Lillian grins and shoves me through the doorway. Immediately I see Octavian walking toward us, his curved metal hooks in his hands.

"Ah, caught her, did you. I don't know how you managed to hide from us last night. Bloody looked all over for you. Still, I do get a chance to use my weapons." He looks down at the hooks and smiles. "Last time was no fun at all. A quick cut across the neck, and it was over. Where's the excitement? I've been dying to get my hands on another tribute so I could enjoy myself more."

He walks closer to me and gently caresses the sharp hook across my chest. "Ah yes, this is going to be fun." Octavian looks at me and smiles.

I spit in his eye.

It catches him and Lillian, who's still constraining me, off-guard, and Lillian's grip loosens. I break my hands away and elbow her in the chest, while with my other hand hits Octavian's jaw. Both of them back away in pain, holding their wounds as the boy from 6, Maize, and Neyra look at me, perplexed.

Only for a minute, though. Neyra pulls out an arrow and places it on her bowstring as I stand in the center of the room, looking frantically side to side. Octavian has recovered and is running toward me, while Lillian, Maize, and the boy just stare, then start running at me too, looks of fury in their eyes. I have no idea what to do, until Neyra's arrow forces me to react. I drop to the floor and see the body of Andrei in the corner, his hands and legs tied. I need to escape, but it feels wrong to leave Andrei here for the dead. For only a moment I internally debate, then I make my decision.

As I sprint toward Andrei, Octavian catches up and grabs my arm, twisting it to the side. I scream in pain as Maize comes from behind, ready to pin my arms. Quickly I swing out my leg and hit Maize's, hard, and she goes collapsing to the ground. I look up and see Octavian hovering over me, a hook in one hand, his other trapping my arm in a steel grip. He doesn't mock or humor me this time; I see in his eyes that he's had enough of that. His eyes are ready to kill, ready for this all to be over. Frantically, I struggle and resist as the hook nears my stomach, glittering and shining in the morning sunlight. I kick Octavian in the leg, and for a moment his hand lets go of my arm. A moment too much.

I duck again and somersault over the floor, then jump up and sprint toward the far corner where Andrei lies.

"I don't care anymore!" Octavian is screaming. "Just kill her!"

Two arrows fly and narrowly miss my back, but one nicks my left arm, but I just keep running. I reach the back corner and kneel down on the floor as four arrows and three knives rain over my head. I pick up the knife and quickly cut the stretched fabric that's constraining Andrei's arms and legs. He stands up at stares forward as Octavian, Maize, and Neyra rush toward us, arrows and knives flying. I drop and crouch and duck, narrowly avoiding the myriad of weapons. But I know I stand no chance when Octavian reaches me. He's close now, and has ordered Neyra and Maize to stop attacking me. Octavian wants me to be his kill once more. Back where we started.

Except that when Octavian reaches me, Andrei suddenly, miraculously, pulls out a match. He takes the makeshift rope that was tied to his arms and legs and crumples the fabric into a ball. Then he quickly runs it over the wall, and the match-head flares up in light.

"Don't move," Andrei says, almost cheerily. "Or I'll set fire to this," He points to the fabric in his hand. "Which will set the house on fire."

Octavian stops where he is, watching Andrei's hand that holds the match.

"I have more, too," Andrei adds. "Sorry guys, but I'm gonna be on Hiriam's team now. 'Kay?"

The Careers back away as I walk slowly to the door with Andrei. I'm glad I decided to untie him; I would have never made it away alive without him. Neyra glares at me as I walk by and says, "We'll get you, and kill you, slowly."

My bravado is all gone, so I don't respond; just walk closer to the door, closer to freedom. We're almost there, when Octavian leaps up and yells "Now!"

Suddenly, all the Careers are convening toward me and Andrei, baring their weapons. Andrei lets out a quick yelp, then laughs as he lights the ball of fabric on fire and drops it on to the ground. It catches fire immediately and I feel the burning heat that is emitted from it. I stumble back toward the door as the Careers halt at the burning flame. The wooden boards are going up quickly, and the fire keeps getting higher. But Neyra ignores the flames and rushes through them, ignoring the intense heat. I feel he still scorching body hit mine, and we both fall onto the floor by the doorway. I feel the fire inching toward us, ready to burn and blister us until we're nothing but charred remains on the wood. But Neyra won't get off of me. She pulls up her bow and retrieves an arrow, positioning it over my neck.

"Morgan was right," she says through gritted teeth. "You would have only gotten in the way."

She pulls the string taut, ready to release the arrow; I close my eyes and try not to think of Phinish and Isabelle; but suddenly I hear a snap, and when I open my eyes, I see an broken arrow and Andrei standing over us.

Neyra is looking up too, so I push her off me while she's distracted. Immediately I run out the door as Andrei follows. We run forward for a minute, but then I look back at the inferno, and I vaguely see the Careers trying to put out the flame, pouring water from canteens over it.

I turn back around and look ahead of me at the forest we're entering.

"Well," Andrei says, smiling. "That was fun."


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Hey guys, once more, thanks for reading my FanFic! Right, now, I am announcing Author/Reader Ideas and interactions! Okay, the name is stupid, but I want you readers to give me ideas and/or suggestions on what should happen in the FanFic, events that should come up, different characters, and such. I may or may not use them, may use part of one, or just use the whole thing. So please leave your ideas in the Reviews section. (Oh, and also—I would appreciate if you would continue reviewing along with idea giving, if that makes sense). Thanks!

Chapter 8

We walk for a long ways, through the silent, dark forest. I hear and see no one, not even any animals, much to my frustration. I'm still a little worried about being with Andrei; he just seems so unpredictable. But he's been a big help, and with his knowledge of fire and bombs…well, I'm just not sure.

Finally, after walking for thirty minutes, I have Andrei stop.

"Okay," I say. "First of all, where are we going?"

Andrei looks at me and shrugs. "I dunno. I don't care. As long as they're no birds."

"Birds?" I respond. "What's wrong with birds."

Andrei looks around the forest, as if to make sure no one is listening.

"They scare me, really," he admits, looking a bit sheepish. "I mean they have huge beak thingies and claws and they have wings! They scare me. They're just strange. And creepy."

I almost laugh, but keep it inside. "Well, I think we should stop soon. Hunt, forage, look for water. I don't want to die of dehydration."

Andrei laughs, as if this is the funniest thing in the world. "Okay. I mean, I guess we'll stop here."

We wait in silence for a little bit, with me surveying the choked forest for any signs of shelter. I see nothing but trees, trees, and trees. I sigh.

"Well." I say disheartened. "There goes that. Let's keep going. We'll look for animals on the way."

It's then that I realize that I left my two spears at the back of the building. Can't go back now, but I feel angry. That leaves both Andrei and me weaponless except for a couple of matches. Sitting ducks for any other tribute. I shiver again at the thought of Kale.

I don't notice anything strange as we are walking until, Andrei, who's been walking in front of me, disappears. Completely. Startled I turn my head side-to-side, but see no trace of him anywhere.

"Andrei," I call as loud as I dare. "Andrei?"

I walk forward, and suddenly I'm falling.

Air rushes past me as I am flooded in blackness, except for a single ray of sunlight. Only for a second I am descending; I rapidly and unexpectedly hit the hard ground.

When I open my eyes, I'm looking up into the sky.

"Hiram? Hiriam?"

Andrei's face is above mine. "Hiriam, are you okay?"

I blink twice then painfully sit up. My arm still isn't recovered with my cut form last night, and it hurts terribly.

"Where are we?" I say slowly.

Andrei's face lights up. In the ground! We fell into a hole. Cool, isn't it?"

I bring myself into a crouch and look around the cavern we've fallen into. It's pretty big; not huge, but both Andrei and me can fit into it fairly comfortably. We aren't far enough below ground that we can't climb out with some effort, but far enough to be concealed from another tribute. Mostly, at least.

"Wow," I say, not believing our luck. "This is perfect. All we need is something to cover the hole with."

"Absolutely," Andrei responds, and immediately starts climbing out of the hole. "Let's get stated."

Andrei has trouble getting put, but I give him a small boost, then he helps lift me out. We instantly set to work on getting sticks and branches and leaves to conceal the opening of our new shelter. It will be hard and tedious to place up the camouflage from inside and taking it down whenever we go out, but it'll be worth it. Even if another tribute does step on the sticks covering the cavern, we'll be ready to swiftly kill them.

A drop of rain hits the ground and splatters into millions of microscopic droplets.

Weapons! I forgot! Both of us have none. I need a spear, even if I have to make it myself. So I find a long bough and a jagged rock to sharpen it with. This will probably take only about ten minutes; then I want to go out and hunt for food and water. My throat is dry again.

I explain my plan to Andrei, but he just looks at me skeptically. "Um, in the rain?"

It's then when I notice the increasing amount of rain. I feel it coming down thick and hard, splattering the ground and turning the dirt into mud.

At first I feel relief, and open my mouth, letting the rain pour into my parched mouth. Andrei does the same, until our bellies are somewhat content.

But the rain only gets harder, and I know that we can't stay out here. So I retrieve my homemade spear and my sharpening rock, and then both Andrei and me retreat into our underground hideaway, me feeling frustrated for two reasons: a., we won't be able to hunt, and b., if the Careers are still alive, this will surely put out the fire. Still, this will give me a chance to perfect my spear, and it will most likely hinder Kale and the other tributes' murder sprees. And at least I have someplace somewhat warm and mostly dry. It's something at least.

However, when both Andrei and me are settled, I feel cramped. I try to engage Andrei in a conversation, but he seems to have gone almost completely catatonic, curled up into a ball, his eyes shut tight, so I just continue to sharpen my spear.

I fall asleep, but I don't realize it until a drop of rain hits my forehead, soft and cool, my spear on my lap, sharpened and ready to kill. My eyes flicker open, and I see a thin layer of darkness, the sun sinking in the arena. I've slept until evening. My stomach is rumbling, but I'm surprisingly not very thirsty. I sit up and look over at Andrei, who's still crouched in a fetal position.

I shake him gently, but he doesn't wake up.

"Andrei," I say slowly. "Andrei."

He stirs, and he looks up and opens his eyes. "Where are we?" he asks groggily.

"Andrei, it's Hiriam. We're in a den…in the arena. Are you okay?"

For a moment he doesn't respond, just flicks his eyelids up and down.

"Oh yeah," he says. "Hi, Hiriam."

"Hey. Okay, it's evening, and I think we should hunt for food. I made a spear…do you want to come along?"

Andrei unrolls himself. "Yeah, I'll go."

"Great."

We both climb out of the hole, covering it up after we emerge. It's not quite dark yet, but it will be in about an hour. I hope there's game out here; of course, there was no food at the Cornucopia, which leads me to believe there are edible animals and plants out here. Nothing is as boring as watching tributes die of starvation.

I survey the ground as Andrei and me walk through the forest, taking note of any important landmarks so we can find our way back. The ground is muddy form the rain, so it should be easy to spot any animal tracks. After ten minutes of walking, I do see them. The tracks seemed to have been made by some sort of fowl; the tracks have three long and thin talons, along with a smaller talon on the side.

"Here we go," I mutter under my breath. "Andrei, here's some tracks."

When Andrei looks down, he almost completely panics. He starts looking side to side, then jumps up and down, finally curling up into another ball on the ground.

"Andrei! Andrei, get up! What's wrong?"

He doesn't respond a moment, then only stammers, "B-b-birds!"

That's when I remember Andrei's strange phobia.

"Don't worry Andrei, it's okay. There are no birds here. Just tracks. It's okay Andrei, it's okay."

He doesn't respond, only curls into a tighter ball.

I know that Andrei has issues, but I have about lost patience with him. So far the only he's done is hold me back.

"Andrei, we need food, okay? If you're scared of some dumb birds, you can back to the den!"

Silence. For a moment I hear him sniffle.

"Fine," he says. "I'll go back to camp."

Andrei slowly gets up, then hobbles back off to the hole. I can't say I feel sorry for him right now; in fact, I'm relieved. This will be much easier without him. I should have just left him sleeping in the first place.

After he's out of sight, I take a look at the tracks again. I plan on following these, which hopefully won't be far. I really can't trust Andrei alone for more than an hour. But I need food, no matter what. I start to think about taking off without Andrei. He'd never find me, and that would be one nuisance gone. Still, he did help me escape form the Careers. Then again, he tipped them off too. My mind is conflicted as I aimlessly follow the tracks. Once in a while I hear the call of some sort of bird, but I can't tell the location of it. So I just keep following the footprints and hoping for the best.

After ten minutes of walking, I find my prey. Elongated head bet down, nibbling at the ground, the glossy feathers on its plump body gleaming. It resembles a turkey, with big feathers and a wattle. My mouth waters just looking at it. The bird hasn't spotted me yet, so I pull back my spear and take careful aim.

The turkey goes down, except I haven't thrown my spear. Sticking in the breast if the thing is a pickaxe. My body tenses. Kale.

Immediately I dart behind a tree, my back against the thick bark. My breath comes on rapid and short, my heart thumping in my chest. I hope that Kale hasn't seen me. I hadn't seen him in the thick trees, but with Kale's superior perception and bloodthirstiness, I wouldn't count on it. I should run, but I don't know where to go. If I make a dash for it, I'll only lead Kale back to the burrow, where both me and Andrei will be quickly killed. I've survived one and half days in the arena, and I plan on more.

I hear the crackle of boots on leaves. Briefly and steal a glance from behind the tree and see Kale approaching the bird. _My_ bird. My stomach threatens to growl at the sight. I remember mentally preparing the fowl in my head after I'd captured it. To no avail. Here's Kale, taking it from me. Inside I'm seething, but I can't attack him. My hope is that he hasn't seen me, and will leave with the bird.

But when footsteps grow louder, I realize he's walking to me. I close my eyes, trying to find a solution. Nothing comes, so I run.

I don't know where I'm going, only that I have to get away from Kale. I hear him starting to run after me, and I know that he's faster than me, and his aim with the pickaxe is deadly. I weave through the trees so that I'll be a harder target to hit. My homemade spear jiggles in my hand as I run through the forest with Kale right behind me.

Behind me, I hear something whistle through the air. Reflexively I duck, and the pickaxe whooshes over my head and plans itself into the hard ground. I turn around and see Kale has stopped completely. His hands are empty, He missed, and now he is weaponless. I slowly walk toward him my hand clutching my spear, keeping an eye on Kale to make sure he doesn't attack. Now I can kill him easily.

As I get closer, Kale doesn't move. He's planning to catch me by surprise, I know it, but so far all he does is look at me with his deep gray eyes. His hands go to the sides of his jerkin; before I can react, he's pulled out a small sphere and lights it. He grins for a moment, then throws it at me.

Suddenly I'm running, and everything seems like it's a dream happening in slow motion. I sprint forward, but it seems like I get nowhere. I hear a loud noise behind me as I keep running. Something blasts me forward as I feel intense pain in my legs, and then my mind black out for a moment, focusing in and out of consciousness. Vaguely I register that I'm lying on the forest floor, and then I'm staring upwards as Kale advances toward me. I see my spear, which I must have dropped while I was running, about fifty meters in front of me. Kale picks it up and approaches my body. A convulsion shudders down my spine, and for a second I feel paralyzed, helpless. I close my eyes tight and then open them. Kale is closer, smiling his strange, sadistic grin. Weakly I crawl across the ground, but I'm moving so slow. Kale seems to be in no hurry however; he's playing cat and mouse with me.

As I inch slowly across the forest floor, my body begins to start recovering from my injuries. Thankfully the bomb was farther away from me, so I only got the small shockwave. Shuddering, I remember that Career the first day.

Kale gets closer, while I start to speed up. My legs, though still aching, seem to be getting better. Grinding my teeth, I pull myself up off the ground. I place my back against the tree, breathing hard. Now that I've stood up, a whole new wave of pain surges through me. For a minute I lean against the tree with my eyes closed, panting and trying to calm myself. When I open them, Kale is right in front of me, my spear in his hands.

Before he can even raise it though, a rock sails through the air and hits Kale in the back. The unexpected force brings him to his knees. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I grab the spear from his hand and kick him in the stomach. Immediately I'm running and limping away, back to where I found the bird. My hope is to snatch it and head back to the warren.

As soon as I start retreating, I see Lucy behind a tree, armed with two enormous rocks. She sees me, and immediately we run toward each other.

"Lucy!" I cry out as we meet. "We have to get away from here!"

She looks at me and then at Kale, who's standing up, a murderous gleam in his eyes.

Suddenly both Lucy and me are running, faster than I ever thought possible, especially in my condition. I hear Kale sprinting behind us, gaining on us fast. Lucy momentarily stumbles over a loose rock; that's all Kale needs, and he jumps and tackles her with viciousness.

I stop short and turn around, and see Kale pinning Lucy down, then he starts to brutally beat Lucy as she screams and yells.

"Lucy!" I shout. "Lucy!"

Kale leans down and grabs her by the throat as I run up toward them both, unarmed and weaponless, but unable to standby. I can see Lucy turning a faint shade of blue as she struggles to find breath. Kale just looks down at her manically, increasing his grip around her neck.

I'm running up to both, screaming "Stop! Stop!" as I pound on Kale with know effect. Lucy's eyes briefly meet mine, and summoning all her strength, she forms the word _go_ on her lips.

I don't want to but it's Lucy's last wish, her final command. I take a final look at the horrific scene in front of me, then take off into the woods, salty tears flying behind me.

In less than a minute, I see the dead bird still on the spot. Without looking back and pick it up and continue running through the forest. For some reason, I don't think Kale will follow me, but I keep running anyway.

By the time I reach the burrow, I'm out of breath and exhausted. I climb into the hole, but realize that Andrei isn't there.

I begin to get worried. I hadn't seen any sign of him when I was running here; could he have deserted me? Really, I guess this would be a good thing, but still, I feel a little betrayed.

I climb out of the hole and glance around. My body is still aching after the bomb, and I'm exhausted after watching Lucy die in front of my eyes. I feel like a piece of fabric being wrung out.

As I continue to look through the woods, I see no sign of Andrei. I don't want to go too far, not wanting to encounter any more tributes. It has been a full day.

My thoughts are halted when I see Andrei emerging from a thicket of trees.

"Andrei?" I say as I see him.

"Hiriam!" he responds, smiling. "Hiriam, you gotta come see this! I found this stream thingy, and there's a whole bunch of water there and it's good!"

"What?" I reply. "Are you serious? Show me."

I grab the dead bird from the burrow, planning on starting a fire at the stream and making a meal. Andrei guides me through the choked forest for ten minutes, until, as he told me, we reach a glistening blue river running over large gray boulders and rocks. I'm a little tentative to drink the water, but my parched throat talks me into it. While I drink my fill and de-feather and the dead bird, Andrei gathers twigs, and using his matches and expertise with fire, gets a warm blaze going. We skewer the bird (which Andrei is still slightly afraid of) with a long stick, and then I slowly turn it over the fire, roasting it. After a while, it's cooked thoroughly, and we both feast on the succulent flesh. I don't want to stay too long, in case another tribute sees our smoke, so I quickly fill my canteen with water, then the head back to the burrow. By now it's pitch black, and it's hard to find our shelter. Eventually we make it back and settle in.

For a while, we both wait in the dark in silence. Then, I faintly glimpse a light shining in the sky. I poke my head out as I see the seal if Panem. It then goes on to show all the tributes that died today. There's only two tonight; a girl form District 6 and Lucy. My eyes water at the sight of her. After the light flashes out, I remember the Careers. Apparently, none of them died in the fire. I find myself gritting my teeth in anger and frustration, but there's nothing I can do. I cover the top of the hole and retreat back into the darkness where sleep eventually overtakes me.

No dreams tonight. I drift slowly through sleep like a ship sailing through the ocean. Everything is calm, serene. My breathing is even, my heart pumping soothingly in my chest. I forget about the Games, the other tributes; there is only sleep, deep and tranquil.

A beam of light penetrates the camouflage on the hole and shines into my eyes. I open them and look around the cramped burrow I'm laying in. Both Andrei and me are touching each other. I sit up, trying not to disturb Andrei, how's still sleeping. For a while I just hold my knees to my chest, thinking of nothing. I'm strangely impassive after yesterday's events, seeing Lucy killed by Kale. All the deaths I've witnessed flash before my eyes: Morgan, the boy from 2, the two slain girls at the Cornucopia, and finally Lucy again, over and over. Tears escape my tightly welded eyes and drop on the floor.

Beside me, Andrei stirs. I wipe my face, trying to look normal. I begin to wonder how Andrei has been able to regain his composure over the course of the Games.

Andrei jerks up his head unexpectedly and looks at me wild-eyed. For a moment he stares at me in terror, but gradually the look goes away.

"Sorry Hiriam," he says, yawning. "Nightmares. Dreamed about the scary dog in the basement." He yawns again and looks at me. He must sense my mournful mood, because he asks me "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I reply, "Just a little down."

"Why?"

My temper starts to snap.

Oh, just because I watched a tribute get choked to death by Kale!"

Andrei laughs, which just infuriates me further.

"What is you problem!" I yell, forgetting about the arena and other tributes.

Andrei shrinks away from me, hurt in his eyes. "Well, I mean, it's just a game."

He's repeating what he said yesterday, at the old building. "What do you mean?"

Andrei laughs again. "Well, I mean, you're acting like the tributes _actually_ die! It's just a game, you know. It's been pretty fun so far."

I'm struck speechless. I knew that Andrei had mental problems, but he actually believes that this is really just a game!

"You think no one dies?" I ask dubiously.

"Well, yeah, it's true."

So he does really believe this. No wonder he's been so unaffected by the carnage around him, how he told the Careers that he was switching sides! He thinks that everybody will actually live. I suddenly regret being so harsh with him.

"Andrei," I start, gently. He needs to realize the magnitude of this sooner or later. "Andrei, this isn't a game."

He looks at me questioning for a moment, then laughs. "Ha. Yes it is."

"Andrei, this isn't just a game. People actually die. Only one person gets to survive this. Everybody else dies."

Andrei frowns. "That's not true."

I take a deep breath before answering. "Andrei, it is."

"No, it's _not_."

"Andrei, have I ever lied to you."

He's silent for a moment before he answers. "No."

"And I'm not lying to you now either. This is not just a game. People actually die. You can die. I can die. Everyone in this arena can die."

Andrei looks at me, confused, frightened. Like the face of a five-year old afraid of a thunderstorm.

"But, but…"

"Andrei," I say again, softly. "Only one person survives."

He breaks down and starts to cry and howl, flailing his arms about the cramped space. He pounds his fist against the hard dirt walls shouting and thrashing as I back away from him. I didn't expect this bad of a reaction from Andrei, and I'm starting to get worried. He continues to lash around the hole, so I quickly climb out into the chilly morning. I'll try to hunt as I wait for Andrei to cool down.  
The sun that woke me is now gone, hidden behind a bank of fog. It's a gray sort of a morning; one that, wherever you are, gives you chills down your back. Carefully I finger my spear in my hand. We'll need food for later today, but I have no intention of running into another tribute. I'm still shaking from what happened last night.

My boots crunch on the leaves below me. I try to quiet my footsteps, in case I scare away prey. I see no sign of anything though; not even any old prints.

For a long time, I'm so concentrated on walking that I forget about how right now I'm being televised to every TV in Panem, unless some major fight is going on. It's strange though; everybody has been staying pretty low since yesterday. I mean, Kale was out hunting, and happened to catch Lucy and me. Only two deaths yesterday- that's incredibly rare. The Careers must have had a planning session or something after they somehow escaped the fiery building. I'm still disappointed that they didn't die; it would have made everything a lot easier. After I think this, I immediately scold myself for being so callous- and morbid.

Then my thoughts go back to Andrei. I start to worry about him again. He might leave the burrow in his grief and rage. I don't want him to die, but I also don't want him sticking with me, alerting other tributes of our position, plus he's an extra mouth to feed. I'll figure out something, though, when I get back to the burrow with some game. For this moment, I'm content to just reside in my own world where I'm not in the arena.

Unfortunately, I'm jerked out of my happy world. It's hard to miss a dead body entangled in a net, especially when it's hanging from a tree.

Immediately my feet come to a halt, and I look up in horror at the corpse, a boy, it's eyes open and glazed over, the pallor skin that seems to be rotting away.

I lift up my spear, expecting some sort of an attack, but no tribute leaps out of the trees. Slowly, I circle the huge girth of the tree, keeping my eyes peeled for any movement. Still nothing. I look up, down, sideways, and there's no sign of anybody except for the cadaver, swinging slightly in the breeze. Searching the ground for footprints, I find nothing. There wasn't any mark on their body, so they couldn't have been killed by another tribute, unless by choking. Of, course, then why would they string the dead body up in a net? I start to think that this tribute killed himself accidentally-he must have been assembling this trap, and must have somehow landed up in it. He would have died of hypothermia last night, for it must have been frigid. They must have fired the cannon while I was sleeping.

After taking another quick survey of my surroundings, I start to turn around and head back to the burrow. I've been gone for about fifteen minutes, and I'll hunt on the way back. I don't want to leave Andrei unattended for too long.

The fog breaks a bit, and a ray of sunlight glimmers off something. I turn back, expecting the dagger of some tribute, but instead I finally see them inside the net. The two spears I left at the abandoned building, the metal of their tips glimmering in the sun. I break a smile. This tribute must have picked them up yesterday evening, after the Careers had vacated.

I walk up to the net, trying not to stare at the body's grotesque features. The face is contorted in a strange angle, one that's seems physically impossible. His eyes are the worst though- glazed, and non-seeing, so empty, devoid of any brightness or color. I slowly reach my hand through the hard mesh of the spear. The spears—thankfully—aren't in his hands, but laying but his legs. I grab the first one and slowly ease it out. I'm successful. I set it down and go in for the next one. As my hand reaches grabs the spear and lifts it up, I hit the carcass, and the upper half falls down on top of the spear impaling itself. Startling me, I jump back and gasp. I'm expecting blood to start spurting out, but instead, which to me is worse, nothing starts dripping out. The body is so dry and dehydrated, that the blood is all dried up. I feel bile rising, but bravely I close my eyes and grab the shaft of the spear. Quickly I pull it out, making an unnerving squelching sound. I pull it through the mesh, and I'm finished. I take a deep breath.

No longer needing my crude makeshift weapon, I throw it into the forest and start heading back.

Along the way, I spot a small squirrel and take it down. Unfortunately, I hit it right in the body, so most of the meat is ruined. Thankfully I find another one, this time getting a slightly better shot.

With my two fresh kills, my hands bloody, my complexion slightly pale after the sight of the dead body, I arrive at our little hideaway. I uncover the opening and hop in. Andrei is still here, which I'm glad and angry about.

"Andrei," I say softly. He looks up. "Andrei, I brought some lunch. I'll skin it, and this afternoon we'll go over the stream and cook it."

His eyes look at me, then at the dead squirrels in my hands.

"Good," he mumbles. "No birds."

"Right," I return, thankful Andrei has gotten over his tantrum.

After that, Andrei starts examining pieces of dirt while I clean the spears I've retrieved. When I finish, I just sit and stare at the sun through a crack in the covering.

About an hour later, my stomach begins to grumble.

"I'm starting to get hungry. We should go to the river and cook these squirrels before they spoil."

Andrei nods, still slightly subdued. We get up and climb out the burrow into the chilly afternoon, my breath fogging in the icy air. It's about a 15 to 30 minute hike to the river, which is both a pain and a blessing. If we are ambushed by any tributes, we'd have a good chance of ducking into the woods and then returning back to the burrow after shaking them off our trail. Still, the walk is uphill and a bit difficult, so I'm a bit put off. But the promise of fresh water and cooked squirrel is to great.

When we arrive, I see the charred remains of wood. I know that it isn't from our last visit; I was sure to dispose of any trace of our presence. Carefully, I walk over to the wood and tentatively touch it. Still slightly warm to the touch. The maker of the fire must have spotted another tribute, extinguished his flame, and made a quick escape; probably about the same time I encountered the dead body.

I see Andrei looking around, more aware now that he realizes that this isn't a game.

"I don't see anybody," I say to Andrei. "I'll gather some wood, and you can start a fire with the charred pieces."

I start to leave, then turn back. "Here," I say. "Take this." I throw him one of my spears. "Just in case. I'll be back in five minutes."

I depart with the other spear, collecting branches, and dry weeds and lichen to strengthen the fire. Of course, Andrei's a genius when it comes to this, and I think he still has some matches. Still, it doesn't hurt.

True to my word, I'm back at the river in five minutes, my arms loaded with fuel. Andrei already has a respectable blaze going, and he quickly grabs some branches and positions them strategically over the fire. It swells at the touch of new wood, and it keeps getting bigger as Andrei adds more wood. While he does that, I skewer the squirrels, squirming slightly at their pinkness and coldness.

"Here," I say, handing a squirrel to Andrei. "You roast this one."

He does, and I cook the other one. It takes a long time for them to bake, and the meat is far less bountiful—and tasty—than the turkey from last night. It's also much stringier, and for some reason reminds me of the dead body hanging in the net. Still, a meal's a meal, and I've got to eat, or else I'll have no chance of surviving.

After washing down the meager meat with some fresh water, I realize that this one meal won't be enough to get me through the day. That means hunting, and risking the chance of another meeting with Kale or some other tributes, like Octavian and the Careers. It's at that moment that I remember Hadrian. It seems so long since I've thought of him, since I was sulking because of his adamant stubbornness. But I'm the only tribute from District 4 in the arena! Morgan is dead, technically dead before the Games even started! Hadrian must not hate me enough keep me from winning. Do I not have any sponsors? It's only been three days, but already the pool of tributes is thinning. I've demonstrated my ability to survive; maybe everyone is just sponsoring Kale instead, or maybe Octavian. Surely though Hadrian could scrounge up some money for some food, a crust of bread even. Am I that pathetic?

I stare up at the sky. I don't even know if the cameras are trained on me; nothing interesting is happening. Still, I have to give it a chance.

"Hadrian," I speak in a loud clear voice. "Food, please." I swallow hard, thinking of something else to say. Nothing comes. "Please," I finally sputter out again.

Then I sit down and fill my canteen with water, ready to get back to the burrow.

"Okay Andrei, let's go."

Andrei looks up and nods, smiling happily. Despite the realization, he still seems to be the strange, different boy he's always been.

In about 20 minutes, we arrive at the burrow, and we both climb in. I haven't realized it until now, but the cameras wouldn't be able to hone in on us in this covered den. Despite the arena being broadcasted on live TV, we still have a shred of privacy, a veil that even the Capitol cannot penetrate

I sit and think, drawing strange designs in the dirt floor, while Andrei sits next to me and sleeps.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Late afternoon blows in, the sun still pale, the arena now harboring a fierce northeasterly wind. Andrei isn't sleeping anymore, and I now that it's time to go hunting. I explain this to Andrei, and I reluctantly leave the hole, looking back. Something feels wrong, strange, different. Andrei seems to feel it too; the smile that was on his face a minute ago has disappeared, as if blown away by the intense wind. He frowns and looks at me.

"Something's wrong," he says oddly.

I nod. "I feel it too."

Andrei eyes the burrow.

"We don't have much of a choice," I say to him, though I find myself wishing we could retreat back into its comforting recesses. "We need food, so we need to hunt. Hopefully it won't be long."

Andrei nods, a bit tentatively. A burst of wind blows us to the side, and I tighten my grip on my spear, as does Andrei.

"Let's go."

We trudge forward, trying to ignore the barrage of wind that seems to be blowing from every direction. I look at the ground for tracks, leading Andrei to the place where I found the wild turkey—and Kale. I'm hoping that he isn't camped out near there. The last thing I want is another confrontation. Lucy's death suddenly flashes before my eyes. I squint tightly, trying to drive the image out if my mind. It doesn't work.

"Look!" Andrei suddenly calls out. I open my eyes and look at the ground where he's pointing. "Tracks," he says.

Sure enough, barely seeable, are tracks sunk into the ground. I stare closely at them. They look like the tracks of the turkey, except bigger, and the talons seem pointier.

"Wow," I say. "It looks like a big one."

Andrei shudders a bit. "I don't like birds," he mutters softly.

We continue on, following the tracks as they lead us deeper into the woods. The sun just starts to waver in the sky, and will most like set in about an hour. A small brush-over of darkness covers the arena like thin cookie glaze.

Presently, a quiet chirping resounds through the forest. It sounds strange, bird-like, yet somehow not. Andrei looks at me fearfully. With night coming on, his fear of birds is becoming only worse. We need food though, and if we can kill this fowl, we'll have plenty of meat for a day or two.

The wind slowly decreases its force, and soon it's nonexistent. Everything is still and quiet, except for the faint chirping noise.

As we press on, I begin to feel more and more desperate. We've been walking for 30 minutes, and it's almost dark, the one time I don't want to be out. The night is for Kale and the Careers, and I have no intention on impeding their privacy. My stomach is rumbling, so I decide ten more minutes, and if we can't get anything, back to the burrow.

Air unexpectedly whooshes over my head, despite there being no wind. I look up, but see nothing in the air, only darkness. It must have been a bird.

The sound of the chirping suddenly grows louder. There's a rustle in hit leaves of a tree. Andrei and me look up. It must be the bird. Silently, we both creep up on it, though Andrei looks slightly pale.

"Okay," I whisper to Andrei. "You make some loud noises and try to shake the tree. Hopefully you'll scare it out, and I'll kill it."

He nods and runs under the tree, waving his arms and shouting as he kicks the thick trunk. Hiding inside the veil of leaves, the bird starts to move and rustle about, and then makes the chirping noise, louder this time. I wait for it fly out, but it doesn't.

Something whips my foot and I fall to the ground, my spear rattling beside me. I look around, but no one's in sight. I see Andrei look over at me, expecting a tribute to jump from behind the trees. It doesn't happen.

Another loud rustle sounds, and I jerk my head to the tree. The bird that was sitting there is gone, leaving behind a trail of falling sticks and branches.

Andrei looks at me as I get up, clutching my spear tight. My heart is thumping in my chest like a drum.

"Hiriam," Andrei says fearfully.

"Don't worry," I respond shakily, raising my spear. "Keep a hold of your weapon and watch."

The line of barren bushes in front of me rustles and moves. I run forward, expecting either a tribute or a turkey, but I find nothing. I look up in the sky, just in time to see a silhouetted figure alight on top of a tree and disappear.

"Hiriam…"

"Just hold onto your spear, okay! All eyes."

"Right."

Silence.

Another rustle, this time from behind Andrei. I run over with him, peering into the darkness, seeing nothing.

A snap of branches from behind.

"You stay here," I say to Andrei. "I'll look over there. Keep vigilant."

I run over to the source of the noise, feeling scared and shaky. Something isn't right.

By the time I reach the spot, nothing is there. I look around desperately.

"Hiriam…"

I hear Andrei behind me; hear the quivering of his voice.

"Keep watch!" I reply, checking to see any sign of the creature.

"Hiriam… Hiriam!"

Before I can move, I hear Andrei scream.

Immediately I turn around, staring in fear. Andrei is slumped on the ground, unconscious. But standing over him…my heart freezes.

It isn't like anything I've ever seen. It's a bird, only a little shorter than Andrei, soft feathers adorning the wings, and long orange legs with talons. But there's no mistaking the reptilian qualities of the beast. The body is a light, sickly green, covered in scales, with a tan-ish belly in the middle. Thin, short arms are attached to its wings, sharp claws at the end, ready to rip flesh from bones. But the most terrifying aspect is the thing's head. It has a long, scaled green neck and a small, blunt snout. Its eyes are cold and black, beady little things like a ravens'. The mouth opens, revealing short, sharp teeth.

All I can do is stare at it in fear. I tremble, raising my spear, but I can't. I'm paralyzed.

Then I feel something sharp at my back. I scream and turn around as another lizard-bird stares into my eyes, its mouth forming a crooked smile.

It pounces, and I fall and hit the ground as it dives its mouth toward my neck, the razor claws digging into my arms. I grab my spear, still clutched tightly in my hand, and shove the point through the beast's mouth. The eyes dilate, and warm red blood gushes over me. Gasping, I push the thing off me and pull my spear away from the dead body, the wound still bleeding.

Then I remember Andrei. Frantically, I turn, but the lizard-bird isn't biting into his flesh. It's looking at me with its cold stare. It raises its head and starts chirping again, the sound reverberating throughout the dark woods. Only a few seconds later, I hear crackling from all around. I spin around and see five other lizard-birds, heads cocked, serpentine tongues flicking out of their jagged mouths. They all stare at me for a moment, beady eyes boring into my skull. I raise my spear, bracing myself for an attack.

With a loud chirrup, three of the six beasts rush toward, two taking to the air with the steady beating of their wings. I see the other three running toward the still unconscious Andrei. I run in a crouch toward him and throw my spear at one of the beast's body, but it only bounces off the hard scaled skin. But it turns and regards me along with the other two, momentarily distracted from Andrei. I slowly back away as they advance, feet crunching on the dry leaves. Wings unfolded, claws outstretched, the lizard-birds walk toward me slowly. I start calling Andrei's name so that he'll awake and run from here, then I can follow. I finally do see his eyelids flicker open, and he stares in horror at the pack of beasts.

"Andrei, run!"

Two lizard-birds drop from the sky on top of me, and I'm surrounded by all six of the things. They open their mouths; one drops it hand toward my chest, ready to disembowel me; the others look hungrily on, their jagged teeth coming closer to my flesh. I wave my hands and try to push them away, but they're too strong and only snap at my hand. One set of teeth pierces my arm quickly, then releases, but the pain is horrible. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, beating and striking the predators to no avail.

There's a sound, the whizzing of something flying threw the air, and I see a spear penetrate one of the lizard-bird's neck. It falls along with a second one, pierced in the same place. The lizard-birds turn, and I quickly scramble up. I expect to see Andrei, and I am about to run toward him and help, but it isn't him. It's the boy from District 8. Strong, lean, with shaggy brown hair, he suddenly spots me. He ducks a swipe from one of the lizard-birds, and rolls, pulling the two spears from the dead carcasses. He throws both into the air, right toward me, and I grab them. Then he pulls out a hatchet, which he promptly embeds in one of the beast's body.

Then I realize what's happening: this boy saved my life, has thrown me my weapons. Now I have no choice but to help. I owe it to him. Behind a tree I see Andrei crouching, covering his ears. These things seem like the perfect nightmare for someone who's afraid of birds.

But I don't have time to think of anything else. I run toward the pack of beasts as they advance the boy. I stab one through the belly, though it's difficult to puncture the skin. It falls, leaving only two lizard-birds left. One of them turns toward me and jumps into the air, flapping into the sky with the other in close pursuit. I throw my spear into the air but miss the beasts by a mile. My spear plants itself into the ground, and I quickly retrieve it.

The boy from 8 and I alone now, except for Andrei, still paralyzed by fear. We're both breathing, short rapid breaths.

"They'll be coming back," he says, panting.

"How do you know?" I say to him.

"I just do."

I hear the chirping call of the lizard-birds, high in the trees.

"They're calling for more," I say, winded and out of breath. "I hate mutts."

Rustling, a shriek that chills me to the bone. It's closer now.

I turn to the boy. "Who are you?"

He looks at me for a moment. "James."

Then the lizard-birds erupt from all sides, shrieking and calling, wings flapping in the air.

"I'll take the left!" I scream to James. I turn and face the onslaught of beasts, at least eight rushing toward me. One pounces, and I hold onto one of my spears in front of me. As the beast hits, the spear impales it, but the body lands on top of me. I push it off and hurl my other spear into another lizard-bird and, pulling my spear from the carcass, push the butt of it into the black eyes of another beast. It shrieks in pain, and I quickly jab the metal point of my spear through its head as blood squirts onto me. I am continually getting more and more repulsed and frightened, but I have no other choice then to fend of these creatures.

I crouch and run through the midst of the beasts and retrieve my thrown spear. Three of the lizard-birds attack, but my spear isn't fast enough. One of the beasts claws my arm, leaving a deep gash. It starts to bleed as the others set in. I push away, then face the beasts rushing. They're in a single file line, so I run toward them, spear in front of me, and I shove it through all three of the lizard-birds, and then take down another with a powerful throw of my spear.

Only three remain. One of my spears is stuck in the three bodies of the lizard-birds. Desperately I try to extract my weapon from the grisly mess, as the last three start rushing. As I fish inside the bodies, I feel the gooey remains of organs, then finally the wooden shaft. My stomach is sick, but I pull away. As soon as the spear is halfway out, the three are close, and one bites into my shoulder as I scream in pain. I can't get the spear out, but keep desperately pulling, hoping for a miracle.

A hatchet takes down the biter of my shoulder. The other two lizard-birds back off for a moment, enough time for me to remove the spear. It flies through the air and punctures one through the neck as James retrieves his hatchet and takes the last one down. It tips over and falls, presenting a sense of finality.

Slowly and painfully I stand up and get my other spear. A sea of carcasses surrounds James and me, and the night is thick with the scent of warm blood. I kick one body aside as I prepare to get Andrei.

"Thanks," I say to James.

"Yeah," he responds. "We make a good team."

I realize what he wants. He's inviting me to be allies with him. I'm hesitant; already Andrei has proved trouble. But James just took down a horde of nightmare creatures with only a gash on his left arm, which I just notice. He saved my life, but I helped him too. He's correct: we do make a good team.

"You're right," I finally respond as we walk toward Andrei. "Allies?"

James smiles. "Allies."

We shake hands.

"Oh, and by the way, it's Hiriam. Hiriam Maris."

James looks at me and smiles. "Thanks. But I already knew that. I remember you from the interviews."

My face goes red at the reminder. I just killed about ten lizard-birds, and the topic of my interviews still embarrasses me!

"Yeah, that was not exactly my finest hour."

We walk to Andrei. Cautiously, he looks up.

"Oh no, you were fine. You looked good in your dress."

I laugh slightly, then turn to Andrei.

"James, this is my other ally, Andrei."

"Ah yes," James responds. "The bomb guy."

Andrei smiles the slightest bit.

"Yes, I definitely remember you. In fact," James rustles in the pocket of his jerkin. "I found _these_."

He hold out his hands and reveals about eight miniature bombs. I stare at him in wonder.

"How did you get those?" I ask.

"Found them, about a fifteen minute's walk from here. Just laying on the ground."

"But I thought Kale had them."

"Maybe he did. He must have dropped them. They were partially covered by some leaves, but I have a good eye."

I suddenly stare at him. "Wait, why didn't you use them when those bird things attacked?"

James looks at me and shrugs. "I dunno. I didn't have anything to light them with."

Andrei climbs up and pulls out his matches, about ten of them. "I have matches," he offers.

But James laughs. "No, no, I'm no good with these things. Maybe you should keep them—I hear you're the expert."

Andrei nods and snatches them from his hand. "Thanks," he says, as a side-note.

Then his eyes grow wide again. "Are the bird things…gone?"

"Yes. I think they are," I say to him in a soothing voice.

"Good," he says, shuddering. I don't like lizards, and I hate birds. Those things are scary!"

"You're right. We should head back to the burrow now."

James raises an eyebrow. "Burrow?" he asks quizzically.

"C'mon, We'll show you."

"First," James says, "I'll grab a lizard-bird carcass."

Immediately I'm repulsed at the thought. "For what?"

"For food of course. We have to eat. And I'm pretty sure these things are edible."

He's right of course, but I'm still disgusted. "Fine," I relent.

James goes over and picks up the grotesque body and throws it over his shoulder, blood dripping from its mouth. I shudder.

"So," James says as we walk. "Where exactly is your hideout located?"

I readjust my spears. "About twenty to twenty-five minutes away. I don't know though…it's a tight fit, even with just me and Andrei."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't call it 'the burrow' because it's a nickname…it's an actual hole. Den. Burrow."

James looks at me strangely. "Hmm, was not expecting that."

"It's the reason we aren't dead yet," I explain to him. "It's actually fair-sized, despite what you might think. We cover up the top whenever we leave it or are inside. It's how we've kept hidden."

We continue walking, James carrying the carcass and Andrei still looking frightened. Finally, I speak the question that's been on my mind since James emerged.

"How did you find us…and why did you help?"

James sniffs and wipes some blood from the lizard-bird off his hand. "Well, first of all, I was camped not far from where you were, in a tree. I was sleeping, but I woke when I heard those things chirping. At first I just thought it was a bird. Then I heard screaming. So I climbed down to see what was the matter. I kept hidden at first, because I thought it was a tribute attacking a fellow Game member. I hid behind some trees, but when I looked I saw you, surrounded by the beasts."

"But why exactly did you help me?"

Sniffing, he shrugs slightly. "I dunno. Like I said before, I recognized you. It just felt unfair that you were attacked and so outnumbered. I got angry. And besides, you seemed nice at the Training Center."

The rest of the time we walk in silence, but I keep a careful watch for any other tribute. Night has completely fallen by now, and you can barely see in front of you. Every once in a while, I imagine I see a shadow dart behind us, expecting a tribute to attack. It never happens though, and I'm thankful that we soon reach the burrow.

Then I remember the meat. We have nowhere to store it, and it's far too late to go to the river and cook it.

I explain this to James and Andrei. James frowns. "Right. I completely forgot about that."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing _to_ do, except leave it out here. Hang it a tree skinned, and hope a tribute or animal is attracted to it."

Though it's pitch black, I help James cut off the thick scaly hide and gut the insides. I feel ready to vomit, but there isn't much left in my stomach. Finally, we finish and hang it from a branch about two minutes walk from the burrow. Then all three of us—Andrei, James, and me—climb into the now very cramped den. Our shoulders are touching, and there's no arm space whatsoever. It feels awkward to be so close to someone—especially someone who you only met an hour ago.

"Who's on first watch?" James asks.

My brow furrows. "Watch? We don't usually have one. I mean…there's not much to watch, is there? Except if someone falls in, in which case, we'll all probably wake up anyway. So really, no point."

James sighs. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess…just keep your weapons close?"

"Right," I respond.

Slowly he closes his eyes. Despite James's apparent friendliness, I'm still a little wary. Sure, he could have killed me multiple times, and left me for the lizard-birds. Still, I'll be cautious.

Soon my eyes start to close. Outside, I hear rainfall, and it starts dripping through the stick and weed covering. It gradually picks up, until it's pounding into the ground with intense force. I cover my head and try to go to sleep, but the lizard-birds resurface, and in a moment of sheer panic, I hear the chirping sound that they emitted. My eyes open wide and I bolt up, convinced that the beasts are right outside the burrow. When I realize nothing is amiss, my rapid heart slows down, and I am overcome by sleep.

My dreams are haunted by the lizard-birds, but I don't wake up again that night; I am roused by the movement and yawn of Andrei, followed by James. I open my eyes into the early morning darkness.

"Morning," someone says. I think it's James. My head is all foggy, and I'm disconcerted. I feel strange.

Somebody looks at me. "Hiriam, are you okay?"

Weakly, I nod.

Then for some reason, my mind goes back to the Training Center, the elevator, finding the room, the enigmatic 'F'. Something's nagging at the back of my mind. There's something I'm missing, something I know that's important.

"Hiriam? Hiriam!"

The last thing I see is an ocean of faces before I black out.

**A/N**—Sorry about the minor cliffhanger thing. Thanks again for reviewing, and please leave your ideas, suggestions, and chapter reviews in…you guessed it, the Reviews section. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N**- Hello again! Last chapter I incorrectly stated that James was from District 8, while he is in reality form 7. Thanks for being so supportive!

Chapter 10

I feel cool air on my face, followed by a frigid splash of water. A soft breeze is swaying the tree branches above me. I open my eyes, finding myself looking up into Andrei's scrunched face. James stands beside him, looking worried.

"You're finally up. Are you okay?"

I flicker my eyelids, then slowly sit up. "Where are we?"

"By the river. Andrei showed me," James answers. "I scouted for signs of any other tributes, but I couldn't find anything."

I rub my eyes. "How did I get here?"

"I carried you. Andrei took the meat."

Gradually, my memory is coming back. I remember waking up thinking of something, then black…

"Wait, the meat? Nothing took it?"

"There were some, um, bite things," Andrei pipes in.

"Bite marks," James explains. "Only on the bottom part. An animal tore off some of the meat, but we cut those parts off. We already cooked some pieces. There was a lot of meat on those things, so we'll have some for tonight too."

I get up and eat some of the meat. It's tough and stringy, but the flavor is surprisingly good. And besides, I'm starving, having only eaten a few pieces of turkey yesterday. After my meal, I get a drink of water from the river, and once more fill the canteen. After I finish this, James gathers Andrei and me by the fire.

"Okay," he says. "I think this would be a good chance to plan."

"Plan?" I ask him. "What plan?"

"That's why we're doing this," he answers. "Plan, as in course of action. Now that we're all acquainted, what are we going to do?"

I'm confused. So I tell him the truth.

"So far, our plan has been to avoid all tributes and stay alive."

James takes a deep breath and sighs. "So basically, you're going to stay in the little burrow until everyone is dead. Look, we all know there's only one victor—at some point we're going to have to either disband or kill each other. I'd rather do the former. But this is only the fourth day, and the pool has barely thinned. As long as we have the numbers, why can't we get rid of the competition? All the Careers—except that boy who died on the first day—are alive. And Kale, we all know that he's the real enemy here. But we have three people—a bombs expert, a spear thrower, and a hatchet wielder. The Careers have more people and weapons, but Andrei said you already escaped them once. Besides, other tributes are probably hunting them, too. Kale is elusive. Hiriam, you said you met him once, but soon after he disappeared. The Careers are easy to track, because of their numbers, but they also have the power to defend themselves."

"So you're saying to want to hunt and kill the Careers?" I ask.

He shakes his head, almost irritably. "No, that's what I don't want to do. As I just said, we all know who the real enemy is. I want to hunt down Kale. We have the numbers, we have his bombs, all he has is his pickaxe and whatever he picked through at the Cornucopia. The Career pack never lasts long. It's been four days, so tensions must be rising. Someone is going to betray them, or, if they're on very friendly terms, they'll just separate. Either way gives us a better chance. I'm proposing we hunt Kale, then pick off the Careers. If all goes well, after that we'll break up and go our own ways."

I sit in silence trying to absorb his plan. "I don't know. It's just so dangerous. Kale would've killed me if Lucy hadn't shown up."

"But now you have both me and Andrei."

I close my eyes, trying to think. "It just doesn't seem right."

"Well, we don't really have any other op—"

The knife that embeds itself in his shoulder cuts him off.

James immediately screams in pain and surprise, and I suddenly see a girl step out from behind a tree. Lillian. She holds up another knife, then beckons her arm. Neyra and Maize emerge, followed by Octavian. He holds out his hooks, frowning.

"You're right, you bloody escaped from us once, but I'm sure you won't be so happy when I can spill your guts. And don't think I'm talking metaphorically—I'm more of a literal guy."

Arrows fly toward me, but I duck and grab my two spears while Andrei dodges the flying shafts. James grimaces, then pulls out the knife sticking from his shoulder, and throws it forward.

"C'mon!" I shout to him, and he comes running after us.

I hear the Careers behind us as Andrei, James, and me catapult our way through the forest. I know that we can't run forever, but I don't have any other idea at the moment.

James, despite his shoulder, ducks behind a tree, holding his hatchet, obviously preparing for a standoff. I don't want to get involved, but I also can't leave James alone to deal with all of the Careers. After a brief internal debate, I likewise run behind a tree, and Andrei takes one close by. It's there that I notice that the boy from District 6 is absent. He must have died today, for I haven't seen his face at night.

I look over at James, holding his hatchet with grim determination. I hold tightly onto my two spears, breathing hard.

_Be strong, Hiriam_, I think to myself.

I hear Andrei behind me, and I look over and find him pulling out a bomb and lighting it. The Careers are close, but Andrei waits. I watch the fuse slowly burn down, convinced that Andrei's going to blow up himself, but then he throws it, straight into he middle of the Career pack. They immediately back away, but catch the tail end of the explosion and are thrown to the sides.

James takes advantage of the opportunity and runs out from behind the tree, holding his hatchet above is head. Octavian, coughing, looks up, and rolls to the side as the hatchet flies at him. It hits the ground, implanting the blade into the soil. Maize, wielding her curved sword, gets up, running toward me as Andrei prepares to light another bomb. Before he can do so, Neyra shoots an arrow towards Andrei. It misses, but causes him to him to drop his match. He goes on his hands and knees, scrambling to grab hold of it. I am about to run and help him, when suddenly Maize appears in front of me and slams the blade of her sword forward. I jump to the side, just in time to see the scimitar pierce the thick bark of the tree.

I raise my spear, but Maize tugs out her sword with a mighty pull and swings it at me. I use my spear to block, and with a thick crack, Maize's sword nearly breaks the wooden shaft of my weapon. I back up as the scimitar comes crashing down, once, twice, and finally, on the fourth strike, my spear splinters and fractures down the middle. I raise my other one, poised for attack, but my grip is too loose and it drops to the ground. Maize looks at me for a moment, smiling, then jumps forward, sword raised over her head.

I run backwards, trying desperately to stay away from the sword singing in the air. I look over at Andrei, who's also running, and I see his matches dropped on the ground. Lillian runs after him, two knives in her hand. James, meanwhile, is locked in hand-to-hand combat, having disarmed Octavian and Neyra. His hatchet also lays a little ways away, but he has no opening to retrieve, as he blocks kicks and punches from Neyra and Octavian.

Then I see the shining silver blade come crashing down toward me, a look of intense fury on Maize's face. Without thinking, I drop to a crouch and manage to do a backwards somersault, the scimitar embedding itself inches from my face. Maize reaches down to retrieve it, but I'm faster, and pull the blade from the earth.

I look at Maize, who immediately backs away as I slowly twirl the sword in my hand. I try to look competent, but I don't have a lot of experience with a blade. I remember practicing it at the Training Center—only four days ago—and doing a fairly decent job at it. But Maize, she seems to have mastered the weapon.

I swing the sword, slashing the air, trying to frighten Maize. I rush forward, but she darts in between the thick trees. I follow her, the sword surprisingly heavy in my hands. I see the Career in front of me, but she suddenly jumps up and grabs a branch and pulls herself up, then scurries upward. I halt at the foot, trying to think of some kind of a strategy. I'm interrupted, by the yells and grunts of James, Octavian, and Neyra, flipping and rolling and dodging fists and feet. I remember Andrei, alone, and I immediately turn. The spot where he was a few minutes ago is empty, and Lillian is nowhere in sight either. Frantically I search for Andrei, but I can't see him anywhere.

"Hah!"

In a flash I see Maize above me, her feet outstretched, and then I'm being pushed back, and the scimitar flies out of my hands. Maize lands in a crouch and grabs the sword from the air.

"Let's end this quickly. I'm starting to lose interest."

She leaps forward, the sword outstretched. I roll over and jump back, in between two thick trees. Maize follows and swings her blade, but I easily avoid it and grab a thick branch that's lying on the ground. Maize swings again, and I parry with the bough. It seems to be sturdier wood then my spear, for it doesn't crack. I block hit after hit from Maize, but I can see she's much more adept then I am. Soon, I'm desperately blocking and backing up, and all my attempts at retaliation and offense are immediately cut off by another well-placed blow from Maize's sword. Our two weapons are a blur, whizzing through the air so fast that you can barely register where they are. My arms are aching, but I'm locked in a fierce haze of movement, unable to escape from the intermingling weapons.

"See," Maize grunts as she slams he sword forward. "This is why we didn't want you. You're…so…inexperienced!"

With a quick parry, I deflect the hit. "That explains why you haven't killed me yet," I counter, focusing on Maize's movements. "Besides, who would want to partner with you guys? First trapped in a burning house, and now it seems the boy from 6 is dead—in fact, Octavian probably killed him."

Maize yells and swings her scimitar toward me furiously. It nicks me at the ribs, but the wound isn't serious. I quickly block her second and third hit, barely even registering my own actions; everything is instinctual.

"You're wrong there," Maize says through gritted teeth. "Octavian didn't kill him—something in the woods got him first!" She hacks at my arm, but I quickly block and retaliate.

I don't know how I do it, but suddenly I'm the one on offense, and Maize is starting to back up, fury plain to see in her eyes. However, fatigue is starting to take over, and my actions and reactions are starting to grow sluggish. Besides that, my branch is a less than adequate weapon, and it's also beginning to crack. I keep pushing forward, swinging my broken-off tree branch, trying to keep Maize on the defensive side, but slowly she's stepping up her game, swinging her sword faster and harder, deftly blocking my own weapon. Somehow, she doesn't look tired at all, while I'm exhausted. I know that I can't keep this up.

A powerful swing comes flying toward me, and I raise my branch and block. I can feel and hear the bough groan and quiver, and before it takes another hit like that, I swing it toward Maize, and my makeshift weapons slams into her cheek.

With a cry of pain, she staggers back as a deep gash appears on her face. I rush toward her, brandishing my branch as Maize is stunned by the hard blow. I swing my bough forward, striking my opponent in the gut.

Maize falls to the ground, clutching her stomach in pain. Her scimitar falls next to her. Blood is starting to flow from her cheek wound, and she looks up at me with glazed, unaware eyes. The scent of the blood reaches my nostrils, sickening my stomach as I breathe hard. _How did this even start?_

On clumsy feet, I stumble forward. This isn't right. A sixteen year old shouldn't have to be killing a fellow being.

There's a crackling sound from behind me. I look back, just in time to see Lillian grab my arms and kick me to the ground.

Pain courses through me. I close my eyes as I feel tears leak out. "But…you…Andrei…?"

"I lost that damn retard in the woods! At least I got to help take you down! Maize, this is your kill. Slit her gut!"

I see Maize slowly rise, wiping the blood off her cheek. She picks up her sword and walks over to me.

She looks down at me, and for a moment I see a flash of sorrow and fright pass her eyes. Maize realizes I could have killed her; I now wish I'd had the guts to.

"Kill her, then we'll get District 7. C'mon!"

I see Maize's internal pain. But she raises her blade and places it over my chest. I feel the cold metal press into my chest with increasing pressure. I never thought I'd die with the sun shining down, the birds singing.

"Cut the filthy—"

Maize is suddenly on the ground again, then I feel the release of Lillian's arms around my wrists. I look up and see Andrei standing over Lillian.

Maize jumps up, looking frightened, then flees into the woods with her sword in hand. But Lillian…I see a red patch on her chest, Andrei with a bloodied knife.

"I took it from her belt," he says, a little shakily. He seems surprised at knifing someone. I feel both a rush of thankfulness and pain—physical and mental.

"Thanks," I finally sputter out, looking into the forest where Maize disappeared.

I am about to walk away, but then…

"James," I say, immediately turning. They're still fiercely fighting, but no matter how skilled James is, it's two against one. He won't last much longer.

"C'mon Andrei!" I yell, running toward the battle with only my pathetic branch.

I see James ducking and punching, throwing in kicks once in a while. Neyra and Octavian rush forward, slamming their fists toward James, but he grabs both of their wrists with his hands and turns them painfully, then kicking Octavian followed by Neyra.

I call out to him. "James! James!"

And he turns. And suddenly I'm regretting my distraction.

Octavian immediately reacts, slamming his fists into James chest, then with a solid kick, hitting him to the ground. Both Neyra and Octavian snatch their weapons from the ground, and both Andrei and me rush forward, respectively armed with only a knife and a branch.

But Octavian doesn't charge us—instead he orders Neyra to follow him, and they start running as Neyra turns around and shoots the occasional arrow. We easily dodge these, but soon, Octavian and Neyra are out of sight.

A cannon goes off, marking the death of Lillian. James slowly stands up clutching his chest.

"I'm sorry," I say to him as he walks toward us.

"It wasn't you're fault. And besides, we were pretty successful. Andrei killed Lillian, and Maize has broke off from Octavian and Neyra."

I nod, and then remember something. "The boy from 6—he's dead too."

James looks at me strangely. "Yeah…so?"

I don't even realize what I'm trying to convey. "Well, they say he was killed by something in the forest."

Even Andrei is confused at what I'm saying. "But, I mean, that doesn't really matter, does it?"

I'm getting that same feeling that I had earlier today—like there's something that I should be realizing. What is it?

"No, I guess it doesn't. The sun is just muddling my senses. Let's get some water and go back to the burrow."

"Right," James agrees. "Then we can come up with an offensive plan."

Andrei and me nod. I feel sad inside, sad for Maize and sad for Lillian. But the one thing I can't get out of my mind is that I've made it this far. That I have helped ruin the lives of so many teenagers.

**2****nd**** A/N**- Hello again! Hope you enjoyed the action-y chapter! Once more, please review and throw out some suggestions! I've been getting some good ideas, which will probably take place in a few chapters…


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The burrow seems cold when we get back, despite three bodies packed together like sardines. I feel numb inside, empty. Right now, James is discussing our offensive plan with Andrei, who according to James has lots of knowledge in the area. James is especially anxious to strike since the Careers have basically disbanded, and I have to admit, this does seem like the ideal time. Right in the wake of their defeat, as they're nursing new plans, Octavian and Neyra, and Maize by herself, the timing couldn't be better. But I'm still hesitant; first of all because every death that I have witnessed and that I have helped commit is suddenly catching up to me. My head is full of figments of so many people, and they're distressing and unnerving me. I think that I might be going insane. They say that deaths can have an impact on your mental health.

James's voice suddenly interrupts my thoughts. "…so I guess really the first step is just to locate them. I think it would be best if we took out Octavian and Neyra first, in case they go searching for Maize. If we can catch them first…"

"Then they go boom, like a bomb," Andrei finishes.

"Right. Boom."

Andrei laughs and James smiles. The two seem to have immediately taken to each other.

"So, I guess that basically wraps our plan up. Hiriam, ready to be filled in?"

I nod, and James immediately explains the plan he and Andrei have concocted.

"Right, so first of all, we need to locate them. After we discover their location, Andrei will—"

"Wait," I interrupt. "Why not just attack out right? We have the numbers."

"Good question," James nods approvingly. "While I'm fairly certain that all three of us could kill Octavian and Neyra, I doubt we'd be able to do so without sustaining injuries. Already I have a knife wound in my shoulder—you have some injuries too—and we just can't risk any life-threatening gashes. And also, we really can't be sure that we could defeat them. After all, Octavian did get an eleven. We can't mess with that."

"Okay, I understand. Go on."

James takes a deep breath and continues. "Right, so Andrei—without being seen—will plant five bombs around their campsite after they leave."

"How do you know they'll come back?"

Again, James smiles. "You and me will be roaming the radius of the camp. Not right around, but about a half or quarter mile away. We'll keep pretty close, and when we hear Octavian and Neyra walking through the forest, we'll run to that direction, and quickly hide behind a tree before they see us. From there, we'll throw sharpened sticks and such. I'm hoping to wound them and get them running, even if not necessarily directly toward their campsite. After a chase, we'll pretend to lose them, or just herd them back to their camp. Andrei, however, in that time would have tied a cloth to all the fuses of the bombs. As soon as the Careers come running back, Andrei will light the cloth with several matches, making it catch on fire and lighting all the fuses, resulting in a massive explosion and the death of Octavian and Neyra."

He pauses as he allows me to take everything in. It's a big, and maybe a tad unrealistic, plan.

"I don't know," I say uncertainly. "It just seems a bit…fantastic. Will it really work?"

James considers a moment, then nods. "I can see how it would seem a bit outlandish, but if we can get all the right materials, and everything goes well, I think this could really work."

I raise an eyebrow. "Okay, but where exactly are we going to get that cloth? And how will we be sure it burns and just doesn't die?"

"First of all, to get the cloth, we're going back to the house. Andrei told me about it."  
I interject. "Except that it burned down."

James shakes his head. "Remember the rain? And, if the Careers made it out alive, I'm guessing the fire was at least halfway extinguished. Now, I don't know for sure, but I think it's worth checking out. This afternoon, that's where we're going."

I sigh, but James might be right. "Okay, but you haven't answered my second question."

"Right. So, to ensure that it will keep burning, Andrei is going to take apart two bombs and sprinkle the gunpowder over the cloth. That should do the trick."

Really, I don't know much about these kinds of scientific things, so I have no choice but to go on with this enormous experiment. No, not experiment. Death trap.

"Well, I guess I have no room to complain. Still, I'm a little unsure."

James waves my worries away. "Don't worry. It'll be difficult, but it _will _work."

"Right, he's right. Um, it'll be fine, because me and James have this all figured out. Everything will go boom!" adds Andrei.

"I'll trust you," I finally say. _But only because_ _I don't have any other choice_.

Still, it could work. Maybe, with luck, we'll be able to eliminate two of our most dangerous enemies. And then we'll have to part ways. Have to face Kale alone.

But I have to live in the present. No thinking about the future.

"In about five minutes, we'll head to the abandoned tenement," James says.

I nod and look for my spears.

_No, not spears. Spear. My cracked one at the river is gone now._

Thinking of my spear reminds me of my fierce battle. Of Maize. The look of confusion and internal pain in her eyes as Lillian commanded her to kill me. Fleeing into the forest, the sun glinting off her scimitar.

Maybe she's already dead. I find in a corner of my gut hoping that she's not. No, Maize is a Career, and besides, I'd rather have her be killed by someone else than by me.

Soon it's time to head out. I climb out of the burrow with my spear as James and Andrei follow. I remember it's about an hour's walk to the structures. Long way to go if there isn't any cloth. But if we can find some, it'll be worth it.

At first we walk in silence, but soon James strikes up a conversation. He asks me about District 4 and what it's like to live by the sea. I try to explain as thoroughly as I can, but it's hard to put the elegance and beauty of the ocean into words. After I speak, James asks Andrei about his home. Andrei tells both of us he's an only child.

"Yeah, um, I don't have any other brothers or sisters. But I have my dad."

"What about your mom?" James says, joining the conversation.

Andre's face suddenly lights up. "Oh, she's dead."

"What?" I ask. "How did she die?"

The grin on his face grows wider. "I was making my first bomb in the living room. My mom was, uh, sitting in a chair, and then I went to get a snack in the kitchen. While I was gone, the candle on the table fell off and lit the bomb."

He pauses a moment. "She went boom."

I stare at him in muted shock, stunned that he can so gleefully announce the manslaughter of his mother.

James next to me looks equally taken aback.

"W-w-what? Are you serious?"

Andrei looks at our astonished faces and frowns.

"Well, um, yeah."

"But didn't you love her?" I ask. "Did you feel any sympathy? She was your mom!"

"Well, I don't know. I was, um, like, three or something. What does a mom do?"

Again, I'm stunned. Is Andrei that mentally affected? Is he so tuned out of reality that he doesn't even know what a mom does?

"Andrei," I tell him. "A mom…is like your dad. She's a uh, uh…female version of your dad."

Wow. I can now attest that was the worst explanation that I've ever given in my life.

But then, completely out of the blue, Andrei erupts into tears.

"Andrei? What's wrong?" James asks, rushing forward.

"I want a mom!" Andrei wails. "If she's like dad, I miss her!"

I feel his tears pierce my heart. "It's okay, Andrei. It'll be fine. You still have your dad. It's going to be fine."

James attempts to soothe him too. In a few minutes, Andrei begins to calm down and stops crying.

"But, there's only one winner," he says James and me.

"Don't worry about it," I say gently. "We'll figure out a way."

Even Andrei must know that I'm lying.

We stand in silence, then James moves forward.

"C'mon guys, we should go."

Both Andrei and me nod. "I think it's only about five minutes from here," I say.

We continue on our walk, then I start a conversation with James.

"What about you," I ask him. "What's it like in District 7?"

He starts to explain about how each child starts in the lumber industry at age 13, and how though it's difficult, it is strangely rewarding.

"What about your family?" I ask.

James stops a moment and adjusts his boots. "Well, I have my mom and dad. And I also have one older sister, Mary."

"Mary," I say thoughtfully. "Hmm. Interesting. Anyone else?"

"Well," James goes on. "My grandpa. My grandmother died a few years ago. It was the year my cousin went into the Hunger Games. She died of stress."

"Oh wow," I say. "First your cousin…and now you?"

He nods. "That's not all, though. Remember ten years ago, when that big rebellion started?"

"Right. Started in District 8. It was squashed pretty quickly, though," I fill in.

"Yes, but it was still quite a blow. My grandmother—my other one—was named Johanna Mason. She helped in the rebellion, actually walked to 8 and helped them fight. She died there. But, even after all these years, I believe the Capitol punishes my family for Grandma Mason's participation. I've had five relatives reaped since then. I'm the sixth."

I walk in silence, trying to comprehend what he's said. The Capitol exacting revenge on James's family? I knew that really riotous citizens of Panem were executed, but I had no idea their level of brutality. Punishing innocent family members for the crimes of their ancestors? How far does the Capitol go?

"Anyway, then I also have some friends,"

"What are their names?" I ask him.

He pauses. "Hailey, Walden, and Saris."

I nod approvingly, then smile and jokingly ask, "A girlfriend?"

James stops for a moment, going a little red.

"No," he says quietly. "Boyfriend."

"Oh," I quickly say, then point into the trees at a small bird. Andrei, next to me, is confused though.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Nothing Andrei," I say. "Just talking about his friends."

Then we emerge out of the woods and into the clearing. I see the charred remains of the building where I spent the first night. The first floor seems to have been completely reduced to black carbon, but I can see the crushed remains of the first and second floor where they collapsed. Everything is cracked and broken. It'll be hard to find anything in the scrambled remains.

"Well, I guess you were sort of right," I say to James. "This will take a while, but at least we might find something that will work for your plan. Which, by the way, I'm still skeptical about."

James waves my statement away. "Don't worry, okay. Andrei and me, we've got this under control. But we still need you."

I sigh, then start jogging toward the broken building. James and Andrei follow until we stop next to the jumble.

"So, um, I guess we start looking," Andrei says.

I nod. "Let's get started."

We all start pushing broken planks around, searching for cloth. I find the wool blanket that I had on the first night. It might work. I throw it behind me, and then return searching.

For the next fifteen minutes we rummage through the rubble, in the end producing the wool blanket, some frayed green curtains, and a shirt, presumably from one of the Careers, most likely the boy from 6.

"Well," I ask James. "Will this work?"

Andrei picks up the curtains and inspects them, then throws them away.

"Too thin," he announces. "They'd burn too quickly."

"Okay, then what about the blanket and shirt?" I say to James and Andrei.

"The blanket, yes," James replies, feeling the soft fabric. "The shirt maybe. We'll take them both back with us."

I nod and wrap my arms around my chest. The early evening air is slightly chill.

"Well, I guess we head back?" I say.

James nods. "There's nothing else here. C'mon Andrei, let's go."

We gather up our supplies and I grab my spear, a soft wind caressing my back. We head toward the forest, staying silent now that it's night. Most tributes will be out, and we don't want to attract any attention to ourselves.

The evening grows steadily darker. Soon, the sky is dark as pitch, with a sliver of a moon dangling in the sky, as if suspended by a hook. I hear a quiet crackle behind me and whip around, but no one's there. I speed up and tap James's shoulder. He looks at me, and I quietly point behind me, then put a finger to my lips. He seems to understand and nods his head.

After another fifteen minutes, we're almost to the burrow. I'm still afraid a tribute is tracking us, and I don't want to lead the to our secret hideaway. James must be thinking the same thing, for as soon as we near the hole, he takes a gradual turn and starts walking away from the burrow. I can see Andrei's about to say something, but I quickly put a finger to my lips before he can speak. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

We walk briskly, and occasionally I hear a crackle behind me, and I know that a tribute's tracking us. My heart starts beating faster, like a steady drumbeat. Andrei also looks worried, but James—James is hard to read,

"Well this looks like a good spot to set up camp," James announces. I see what he's doing. He wants to draw the tribute out, then face-off. The prospect of another death messes with my gut, but if I contradict James, the tribute is sure to know that something suspicious is going on. I have choice but to go with it.

James leans against the tree behind him.

"Good thing we had a big lunch. I don't see any animals out tonight."

I nod and so does Andrei, who's starting to shake. I finger the shaft of my spear nervously.

And then we sit and wait.

We chat amiably for a few minutes, but nothing happens. And then, in a break n our conversation, I hear heavy footsteps, and suddenly a boy dashes from the thick undergrowth. James immediately grabs his hatchet and I raise my spear. The miniature axe goes flying from James's hand, but the tribute suddenly pulls out…a shield!

The hatchet hits thick metal and bounces off. The boy runs toward me, a dagger in his hand, and scrapes my chest with a dagger. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I duck his next swing, then raise my spear and bring it down. It embeds itself in his shoulder as James and Andrei rush forward, preparing to help me.

But the boy doesn't attack, but staggers backwards, into the brush. He stumbles and falls on his back, dazed from the pain. He stares at all three of us, eyes opening wide, and then turns and weakly crawls deeper into the underbrush, leaving a vibrant trail of blood behind him.

Andrei, James, and me are following him, when suddenly there's a loud growl. The boy's eyes widen, looking into the thick bushes. His mouth falls open, and suddenly he lets out a bloodcurdling scream. There's a flash of movement, and something grabs the tribute. My blood freezes as I hear the sound of ripping flesh and horrific screams cracking the evening air. It goes on for about ten seconds; then it's all quiet and still.

And so are we.

Minutes pass before I speak.

"What…what was that?"

Andrei covers his eyes. "Lizard birds! They're more lizard birds!"

"No," James says quietly. "Those weren't lizard birds. They didn't make that sound."

I nod. "And they would've come from the sky. Do think that thing will come back?"

James shakes his head. "No. It would have already come after us. It must have smelled or seen us."

"But why him?" I ask. "Why that tribute?"

James shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. But we should return to the burrow."

James picks up the fallen tribute's shield as I nod, and we head in that direction, while my mind ponders this strange turn of events.

"Why does this sound familiar?" I whisper to myself.

A cannon goes off as we climb into the burrow. The mauled tribute is really dead, then.

We cover up the opening and settle in. Soon, I'm overcome with drowsiness and my eyelids droop.

_Something's going on_, I think to myself before I succumb to sleep.

_Something big…something I should know about._

**A/N~ **Hope you enjoyed my chapter. Please review and give me some ideas for upcoming chapters! Oh, and also, from now on I'll only be updating on Saturday, due to homework from eighth grade. Thanks guys!


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I wake up in the early morning, crisp and chill. I rouse James and Andrei, and we chat in the burrow for a few minutes, and then venture to the river to eat. The lizard bird meat is still good, and we roast it once more over the fire. After that, James goes off and kills two birds. We're pretty well stocked with food and roast the remaining of it and store it in a makeshift pouch made of leaves.

Soon we start heading back toward the burrow with our meat, when suddenly I hear a thump from behind. All three of us spin around; me armed with a spear, James with a hatchet, and Andrei with Lillian's knife. But there's no tribute in sight. I look at the ground.

And see a silver parachute attached to three loaves of bread.

I rush over and pick up the bread, ecstatic that I've finally got sponsors.

"James! Andrei!" I yell, holding up the bread. Andrei grins as James cracks one of the loaves into three segments.

"No use wasting this," he says, and we all eat the crackling bread.

We continue on to the burrow, and soon I feel tiny droplets of rain falling. Soon it turns into a right deluge, and we scramble back into the semi-dry burrow.

The rain continues all day. We all munch on food, sleep, and talk for the remainder of the day. The rain never once ceases, and I'm glad for that, mainly because it's one day where I won't have to worry about death. I think that most tributes will also be sticking to shelter. A good day to recuperate.

Before I know it, day melds into night. I begin to grow sleepy, and soon I close my eyes.

Suddenly I hear an enormous boom. My eyes blink open and I see James taking off the cover of the burrow.

"What time is it, and what was that?" I ask groggily. Andrei stirs beside me and looks up.

"First of all," James says. "I think it's close to midnight. You've been sleeping for quite some time. As for your second question, I have no idea."

There are two more enormous cannon shots. And then I hear the voice of announcer Arius Marsallas.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, tributes of the Hunger Games, I am pleased to announce the _first day of no death_!"

"Oh god," I say, and fear immediately shoots through me. I completely forgot about this Quarter Quell twist. I think of my slip of paper that's ready to be drawn, ready to be announced. Alive one second, dead the next. Beside me, I feel James quiver, and Andrei is stock-still.

"Two tributes," Arius continues, "Will be picked from our special reaping ball tonight. The first…"

I struggle to stay conscious.

"Meyrin Richards!"

One name down. Please not me, please not me…

"And Pilgrim Havrin!"

I can't help but take a breath of relief.

"Now, Meyrin and Pilgrim, today you are going to die in a very special way: by electrocution."

I can almost hear Arius smiling behind the microphone. "Happy Hunger Games everybody!"

Even in the burrow, I can see the enormous flash of lightning, no doubt hitting the unlucky tributes. It's followed by another flash, and I feel tears seeping out.

"Don't forget," Arius says, the zeal evident in his tone, "Keep those killings coming!"

I break down and start weeping. The lightning seems to have fractured my vision, and I feel light-headed. The brightness soon melds with darkness and begins to swirl, around and around and around…

"Damn it," Hadrian mutters as he watches the television screen. "Why couldn't they have drawn that psycho bomb kid or that gay dude?"

I watch all the mentors scrutinizing the screen. Two have just had their tributes randomly killed. Two will have to console their districts in a few weeks. The camera zooms onto the blackened and smoking bodies, twisted in grotesque angles.

"I'm going to bed," I say, slowly standing up, my old and frail joints groaning in protest.

"Wait, Katniss," my husband Gale says, getting his cane and slowly following me.

Together we walk to our room, my body on fire after that horrible killing. I frown, trying to quench my fury as I slip into bed. Why am I even here? At 67 years old, I shouldn't be here mentoring kids before they're mercilessly slaughtered. Not since the 74th Hunger Games—my year—has District 12 been victorious. Haymitch Abernathy, my mentor, died only two years ago, leaving me alone. No, not alone. Gale came with me, promised to help me carry the burden of training the tributes and watching them die. But maybe this year will be different. I hope it will.

I don't want my grandson Kale to die.

**A/N**- Hey guys, sorry for pulling the random POV change on you. I just kind of wanted it to be a surprise. There will probably be more POV changes (random ones) semi-often. And yes, I know this was a short chapter, but the next will be longer. And yes, Peeta is dead, Kale Hawthorne is the grandson of Katniss and Gale, and…their children have raised a bloodthirsty monster! All your questions about Katniss's life will most likely be answered, but feel free to leave your own. I might have overlooked some aspects.

Okay, and finally, smudgedlight commented on how original my characters were. And so I'm coming clean. Andrei is not my own creation, but that of my creative consultant who shall be known as Moo. She would also like to hear what you think about Andrei…so keep that in mind!

Please leave reviews and ideas!


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I have a restless night. About every hour I wake up, seeing brilliant flashes of light, like the two bolts that killed two of the tributes. Bringing the total number down to eight. I can't believe I've made it this far, and I know that it's time that the three of us should disband. I don't want to, but I'm even more opposed to the idea of killing them. I know that tomorrow, the day of our death trap, will be our last together.

It goes on. I sleep. I wake. I think. I cry. I sleep.

Everything finally ends. I drift back out of slumber, and it's morning. James is already up, munching on a piece of the meat we cooked yesterday. Andrei is also stirring.

"Eat and drink," he says to both of us. "Big day."

I accept the proffered piece of meat and wash it down with some warm water from the canteen.

"So, we all know the plan, correct?" James asks.

"Yeah, yeah," Andrei says, engaged in a fierce battle with his meat.

"But first we need to locate them," I say.

"No," James responds. "First we make some more weapons. While you two were asleep, I gathered some branches and found a sharp rock. I've already sharpened two."

I finally notice the pile sitting on his feet.

"Great. So when are we heading out?"

"In half an hour."

I yawn and locate my spear. As I do so, I hear something hit the covering above me.

All three of us spring into a battle stance, and with my spear I jab the covering, collapsing it. With the sticks and leaves comes a flash of metal.

A hatchet. Attached to a silver parachute.

I breathe in relief and hand it to James. The miniature axe is extremely sharp and shiny, aerodynamic, large enough to puncture a skull, light enough to be carried around. James smiles, then laughs.

Then I look up and see another parachute floating down. Attached to the end are a cluster of bomb, five.

Andrei's eyes immediately light up, and he snatches them from the air. Included is also a box of matches.

"Now is not the time for blowing those up," I playfully remind him. Andrei smiles and nods.

"Great," James says. "Now we'll have bombs for Andrei after the trap.

When we won't be together anymore.

For the next fifteen minutes, all three of us sharpen the wooden branches, then James announces it's time to move out.

"I remember what way they took from the river," I say. "We should go that way."

James and Andrei agree and we climb out of the burrow. After a short walk we arrive at the river and refill the canteen. For a few minutes we rest in the early morning sun, but James wants to press on.

I look for tracks as we walk, but the rain must have washed all of them away. As we go farther, the woods grow thicker and darker, despite the early hours.

"It's so dark," Andrei murmurs. The slight noise echoes slightly, and two birds dart from the recesses of the trees.

"Well this is eerie," I comment, trying to lighten the mood. I have my spear, one crude one in my other hand and another homemade one on my back. James has his two hatchets and one spear, while Andrei has one spear, a cluster of five bombs, and four matches stuffed in the pocket of his jerkin. A rabbit darts across our path.

"Look," James whispers. "Footprints."

Sure enough, two sets of footprints are embedded in the ground. They must have been made after the rainstorm.

"We're on the right track," I say.

And then a tree falls.

One minute the massive oak is standing, and then suddenly it's moving, as if being uprooted by a giant. It tumbles over right in front of us, and the earth shudders as it makes contact, as if shrugging its shoulders.

"The Gamemakers," I say, sure that this is their doing.

"They're trying to bring us together," James replies. "For a faster-paced Games."

Andrei shudders behind me. "Great."

As if in response, I hear a groan and see another tree fall behind me.

"We have to keep going," James says, frustrated. "Just watch out for the trees."

And so we go on, occasionally spotting footprints. I know that we're getting closer.

Ten minutes later I finally see them. Octavian with his hooks and Neyra with her bow are sitting on the ground, eating berries. They have a small wood fire going, but the smoke coming from it isn't obvious from farther away.

James stops and ducks behind a tree. We're a good distance away, but I still whisper.

"So how do we get them to move?" I ask.

"You and me will make some noises," he replies. "Hopefully they'll come to investigate, and then everything comes together."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You know what to do, Andrei?" James says.

"Yes," he whispers back, fingering the cluster of bombs.

"Then good luck," James says to him. "We'll meet again behind this tree, after everything is over. Come on, Hiriam"

I follow him deeper into the forest. Then James opens his mouth and produces a frighteningly accurate birdcall. He does this twice, then waits a minute; three, four times, waits about thirty seconds. He keeps doing this, but I see no sign of Octavian and Neyra. Finally, James makes a loud clucking noise and falls silent.

A few minutes later, we hear a rustling in front of us. I glimpse a bit of metal from the hooks in Octavian's hands.

"Lead them deeper," James whispers into my ear. We stealthily back up, keeping ahead and out of sight of the murderous tributes.

We continue to press farther for the next five minutes. Then James and me run ahead, and we both hurriedly scale a tree, a task made more difficult due to our weapons. But finally we're settled, and James makes another bird noise. We sit in silence with our weapons raised. We'll throw the makeshift spears first, then jump down while they're caught off guard and press them back.

About thirty seconds later, I hear footsteps and Octavian and Neyra emerge. They both look pale and underfed, but I'm still worried.

"Where's that filthy bird?" Octavian shouts at Neyra.

"It must have kept going ahead. Let's follow it. And please don't shout, it'll attract—"

"Right now I couldn't give a bloody damn about that! We need food!"

"Then let's follow it," Neyra says irritably.

James silently counts to three, and then we both fling the sharpened sticks downwards.

Mine nicks Octavian in the shoulder and draws a bit of blood. James's shaft hits Neyra straight against the head.

Octavian staggers back. "What the bloody hell was th—"

Both James and me leap from the tree and hit the ground, hatchet and spear in hand. We immediately rush them with our weapons; purposefully pushing them back, right toward their camp.

Octavian and Neyra engage in a few blows, but soon see that their only chance of escaping without injuries is running away. And so they do.

They both dash forward, right in the correct direction. I feel blood coursing through my veins, the adrenaline going through my system as I run through the thick forest, chasing after two of our most dangerous opponents.

Everything is going perfectly until Octavian jumps to the side, rolling across the ground. I screech to a halt, and Octavian throws himself at me, the silver hooks singing over my head. I block with my spear and manage to jab him in the shoulder, but he doesn't seem to feel it.

I see James run up toward me, followed by Neyra, but Octavian now knows that he stands no chance. He throws a particularly hard blow at me, but I dodge and he catapults through the forest. Neyra does the same, and the chase starts all over.

Together, James and me shepherd them back toward their campsite. In less than a minute, it's already in sight. Octavian and Neyra are running forward, toward the rigged spot; in a moment, they'll be there. Time seems to slow down. I see the tributes enter the ring; hear James call to Andrei to light the bombs. He darts from behind a tree and lights the stringed cloth. It burns, and for a moment I'm afraid it will fizzle out and die; but it doesn't, instead spreads the flames around, nearing the first fuse. I back off with James, not wanting to get caught in the resulting explosion.

I watch Octavian and Neyra, caught in the middle. They seem to be just realizing that they've been tricked, that they will be dead in the next fifteen seconds.

Octavian stands for a moment, and one bomb goes off, followed by another. They get caught in the backlash, but they won't be so lucky when the bombs on their side explode.

Stunned and laying on the ground, the fire nears the next set of bombs. Octavian weakly crawls away, gaining speed as he goes. Neyra follows after him, her movements frantic. She starts screaming, clutching her side as she tries to escape with Octavian. They almost make it; then two more bombs go off.

The two tributes are flung to the side like rag dolls. Bleeding, they lie still. A stray bomb goes off on the other side. Then everything is silent.

I breathe a sigh of relief, surprised to find a stray tear leaking out of my eye. I angrily wipe it away and follow James. Andrei reemerges and meets us.

"It worked!" he cries, jubilant.

"Yes," James responds tiredly. "It worked."

Then I remember. "The cannons—they didn't go off."

"I think they did during that last bomb," James says, frowning. "I think I heard two cannon shots."

"Let's check," I say.

James relents and nods. "Okay."

We walk over to the still bodies. James stoops over Octavian and feels for a pulse. "Nope," he confirms.

He then checks Neyra, but finds no sign of life.

"That's that, then," James says and walks away. Andrei and me follow him.

And now it's almost time to split up. When I must face the horrors of the arena myself. I clutch my spear tightly to hold back the tears.

* * *

I was dead for a minute.

It started out as a vibrant shade of red, bright and colorful. Then…void. Darkness. I felt, saw, or heard anything.

Gradually I battled my way into consciousness. I felt the presence of death standing over me, trying to take me with him, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want to go.

And then my eyes suddenly open. Everything is so bright, and everything looks like it has a double, cracked right through across the middle. My sight seems to be fractured; when I feel my eyes, the right one is bloody. That would explain it. I am half blind.

I feel strangely elated after I reemerge from death. Gleeful, even. Everything seems perfectly jovial, wonderful, incredible! I smile and then laugh at what a joke everything is.

It takes me a while to remember where I am. Then everything comes back. Everything. And my happiness vanishes.

What bloody idiots those three tributes were.

Next to me, I hear a groan. A girl, beside me. I vaguely remember her name. Neyra. She too is coming back to life.

She opens her eyes and looks at me.

"Octavian," she whispers, arm and face bloody.

Slowly, I stand up. My brain feels bubbly and fizzy, like champagne. I laugh again, cracking the sky with my voice.

"Octavian," Neyra repeats.

There's something about her voice, so desperate and pleading, that rubs me the wrong way. I feel irritation at this helpless girl with the gall to ask for my help. And I suddenly begin to grow angry.

"Why do keep bloody calling my name!" I shout at her.

"Octavian, please, help me." Her voice is almost nonexistent.

I laugh again, even though I'm furious at the world, life, and Neyra. "Why help you, after you got both of us killed?"

"I didn't…do this. Help me."

Fury rises within me again, red-hot.

"Why should I, you bloody good for nothings bastard!" I kick her in the ribs and she cries in pain.

At that sound, I grow excited. I need to hear more.

I reach down and find my metal hooks, gleaming expectantly in the sun. I pick them up, stroking the cold metal.

_Thank you Octavian. It's been so long. Please, use us, we long for the taste of fresh blood._

I am in no way disturbed that my weapons seem to be talking to me. It sounds natural, comforting, commanding. I walk over to Neyra, my hooks screaming in excitement. Her eyes grow wide in fear, and I smile happily. This is more like it.

I let the sharp metal caress her stomach as she whimpers. Blood rushes through me. I've never felt so alive.

"Please Octavian, no, please…"

_Yes Octavian. Please, please…_

I slice some of her arm and she shrieks, tears starting to flow. I cut her other arm, tracing a pattern over her shirt in blood.

But I'm growing bored. It's time to end this.

_Continue Octavian. More blood, more blood!_

I position both hooks on her stomach. Then, with a yell of triumph, I pull them across, deep.

There's a scream. A horrific, wonderful, beautiful scream. Then silence as the late Neyra's guts spill out. What an absolutely brilliant smell.

_Yes Octavian, it's so delicious._

I exult in the rush after the kill, smiling again.

_But Octavian, we need more. You must get those three tributes, the ones who made you confront death, the ones who blinded your eye. We hunger for blood!_

Yes, that is what I will do.

_But first try the blood, dear Octavian. Rejoice with us, hunger with us!_

I wipe the blood off my two hooks with my hands, then lick it clean. The taste is so amazing, so invigorating!

I look up at the sun, blistering hot, the color of blood. What a gorgeous day!

**A/N**- Thank you all readers who have read and reviewed my story. And if you haven't please do! I'm aiming for 100 reviews…I don't know how realistic that is, but whatever. Hope you're enjoying my story. This last part of the chapter was really fun to write…

Please leave reviews, ideas, and suggestions!


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Something's not right. I feel it in the air.

Ahead of me, James slows to a stop. I walk over to him with Andrei, and I can see in his eyes that it's time.

"Listen," James says slowly. "We all knew this was coming. We've eliminated two tributes, and I think it's time to split up."

I brush back my brown hair, growing long after so many days in the arena.

"Right," I say, biting my lip. Beside me, I see the look of confusion on Andrei's face.

"But, but, what will I do?" Andrei says, suddenly crying. James's eyes widen in sorrow, but he doesn't say anything. Gently, I place my hand on Andrei's shoulder.

"Remember, we agreed on this," James says lightly.

"No! You can't leave me! I'll die!"

"No you won't," James responds, backing up slightly.

"What can I do? What can I do?" Andrei says, crying and shouting.

"Hiriam, say something!"

I stand in shock as James looks at me and Andrei cries beside. Say what? I have no idea what to do. This incident is straight from my nightmares.

"Maybe," I finally struggle to say. "Maybe Andrei's right."

"What!" James yells at me, dumbfounded.

And suddenly I'm sure I'm right. "Listen, something is going on! We need to stick together and face the arena with each other! We can find a way out!"

"I can't believe you," James says, frowning and shaking his head. "After all our discussion. Listen, there is only ONE VICTOR!"

"We can change that!" I yell back, fury rising within me.

James laughs scornfully. "Exactly how will we do that?"

"I don't know, dammit!"

Andrei looks at both of us, his tears gone, replaced once more by confusion. We both stare at each other, our eyes smoldering.

"No," James finally says, quieter.

I clench my fists. "James we need to stick together. We can change this, we can outwit the Capitol!"

At the look on James's face, I know that I've said something wrong.

Then I remember that millions of cameras are trained on my back.

"Oh god," I whisper to myself.

And then I hear a symphony of hisses behind me. I see James looking, is face growing pale.

"Snakes. Of all the things, they had to be snakes."

Then a long, flexible tail whips my face.

I shriek and fall to the ground, my spear hitting the earth. I look up and see my reflection in the glassy black eyes of a creature. Out flicks a thin red tongue. For a brief second, I see a flash of white fangs.

And suddenly, a 12-foot scaly body wraps itself around me.

Almost all my breath disappears, and I struggle for air as the enormous snake pulls tighter around my body. I reach for my spear as my life fades away. I finally locate the wooden shaft and lift it with my remaining strength. With a weak thrust, I jab it through the thin body.

The body releases me, and I greedily suck in air. Slowly I stand up, breathing heavily.

"That…was random."

The gears in my mind are suddenly turning again. I feel myself on the verge of realization, but…

Six more snakes slither toward me.

"James! Let's go!"

I turn, but James is nowhere in sight.

"James!"

The first two snakes attack, whipping their long tails and baring their teeth. My heart starts to pound as the snake-mutts rush toward me, then fury fills me.

I didn't make it this far to get taken down by some filthy reptiles.

"Andrei!" I yell, and he runs toward me.

"Help me out here!"

He nods, fear visible in his eyes, and draws his dagger.

The first two fly toward me, but with one, two slices, they're both one the ground. I turn and see Andrei slicing a small cut across the snake's throat. Then the remaining three slink toward me, opening their enormous mouths, mouths that could easily devour me whole.

Andrei runs to my side and we attack the remaining snakes. In less than ten seconds, all three are down.

"Nice job," I say to Andrei, and he smiles.

"Now," I say, turning. "Where's James?"

I look back into the forest, and another two trees suddenly fall. The earth shakes again, and I step back, away from the dust. When it's clear, I step forward with Andrei.

Just in time to see another enormous snake slither away through the trees.

"It's searching for James," I say, sure that I'm correct. "C'mon Andrei!"

I run forward, following the hissing sound of the snake. The wind rushes against my back as I scout the area ahead.

"James! Jaaaames!"

I spot the quick tail-flick of the snake, see it turn right. I follow as Andrei breathes heavily beside me.

I halt as I see a small clearing. In front of me is the massive snake, and running forward is James. I dash forward with my spear, catching up to the slither of the snake. It turns for a moment, but my spear comes down before it can strike. The neck flops over, limp and lifeless. Ahead, James stops.

I walk over to him with Andrei, and he looks at the ground.

* * *

"Humm hum hmmm a humm…"

I walk through the forest, smiling and looking at the ground.

_Don't be distracted Octavian. We want blood, blood of the three. _

I reluctantly nod and once more scan the ground. Still no sign of the bloody tributes.

_Octavian! Look! Look!_

Glancing at the ground, I see a pile of long green vines, scaled and a pair of fangs protruding from their mouths.

_They've been here._

"Yes, yes, I bloody know. But where the hell are they now?"

_Do not grow angry with us, Octavian._

"Why are _you_ always telling me what to do?" I yell, staring at the metal hooks.

_No need for anger, Octavian._

"Bloody easy for you to say! You don't feel the things I do!"

_Enough, Octavian. _

"No!" I continue. "It's not enough! Why do I have to listen to you!"

_We've tried to be calm, Octavian. We've tried to reason with you. But you leave us with no choice._

"What…are you talking about?"

_Hold out your arm, Octavian._

"What am I doing?"

_Hold it out._

I do, trying to resist the urge, but it's too much.

_Take us, Octavian, and cut your arms._

Horror fills me. "No, no, no, NO!"

_Do it._

I reach for the hooks and lightly place them on my arm.

_Cut cut cut cut cut…_

I pull the sharp metal across. Pain sears through my wrist, and I scream into the sky.

_Your blood…is tasty._

Tears start leaking out, and I look down at my bloody arm.

_We told you not to get angry. We told you._

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

_Do not fret. You have been punished, but now celebrate with us. Taste the blood—your blood._

I oblige, licking the hooks clean.

"So…delicious," I finally say.

_Yes, it is._

"Now…now what do I do?" I ask.

_Find the three. They were here. We feel it._

I nod, looking around the thick forest.

_Take the path to the left. Follow them. Blood blood blood blood blood blood!_

I turn and continue walking.

* * *

"I'm sorry," James says to me.

He turns and looks at my face.

"I just don't realize why you abandoned me and Andrei to the snakes," I reply, frowning.

James stands up, stretching his arms.

"Well?" I persist.

James looks to the ground. "To tell the truth…I'm afraid of snakes."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. James does not seem like the kind of person who is scared of the reptiles. Didn't he kill swarms of lizard-birds?

"My friend back in 7," he continues saying. "He was always a joker. One day we were walking through the forests after working. Right in front of us was a snake, slithering across the grass. My friend crouched down and picked it up while I stayed back. Then he brought it towards me. I don't know, I guess the sight kind of spooked me. Seeing this, my friend, laughing, threw it at me. It hit my chest, and immediately bit me. It wasn't poisonous thankfully, but ever since I've scared of snakes."

We sit in silence for a moment.

"Sorry," I finally say. "I didn't realize that."

Then my mind begins to start working. Why does this sound so familiar?

And then everything comes crashing back. The room in the Training Center, the F, the lizard-birds, and now the snakes. The boy pulled into the bushes. Maize saying that Octavian hadn't killed the other Career, but something in the woods had.

And suddenly everything makes sense. The Capitol, here in the arena, is targeting our fears.

**

* * *

**

A/N-

Don't worry readers, everything will be explained! Please review and leave ideas! 


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N- **Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated for a long time, but I've had a really hectic schedule. I'll still try to update every Saturday, but I might not make the deadline. Just a heads up!

Chapter 15

Everything that has happened in the arena—outside as well—suddenly makes sense. I need to explain what I've found to James and Andrei, but I can't with the ever-present Capitol watching me. We need to get back to the burrow.

I try to sigh casually, scratching my head. "I'm tired. We should really get back to the burrow," I say. I stare at James, trying to show him that I've found out something important. He looks at me strangely, but doesn't question me.

"Right," he says. "Let's go."

The three of us start walking through the thick forest. Occasionally I'll hear the slam of falling trees hitting the ground.

"Let's hurry," I say amiably, hoping that the Capitol doesn't find me at all suspicious. I survey all around the forest as we walk, sure that the Gamemakers will throw some evil beast at us any second. But I see and hear nothing at all.

Soon we reach the river. Andrei claims he's tired and thirsty and needs to take a break. I grow antsy as he goes for a drink at the stream, but I have no choice. James sticks around me though, staring at me with contemplative eyes. I'm sure that he knows that I know something, but he has enough sense to not question me out in the open.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Andrei calls cheerfully. I nod, and we go back to walking.

* * *

The sun shines on my tan skin as I walk through the forest. All day I've been sniffing about for tributes, but they're all hiding like cowards in their respective dwellings. Oh well. I'll find them eventually. I always do.

From my jerkin pocket, I pull out a thick slice of duck, a gift from one of my innumerable sponsors. I've been swamped with parachutes lately, delivering food and water and weapons. These days in the arena have been easy for me, a short, delightful walk in the park. Eating and killing and sleeping, this trip has been a vacation for me.

I hear a noise ahead and I grip my pickaxe.

I listen closer, and recognize the sound as a stream, burbling and gurgling away. Water sounds refreshing now.

Walking forward, I hum a little tune to myself, my pickaxe poised to kill in case any stray tributes are lurking about. I emerge from the trees and find myself in a small clearing, and there's the crystal stream, flowing about lazily. After I few quick glances, I see no sign of any other person and crouch by the river.

Cupping my hands, I dip them into the cold river and bring out water, sweet and wonderful. I repeat this process several more times until I am good and filled. Thirst assuaged, I stand up.

And then I see footsteps in the ground.

Immediately I drop to my knees, staring at the footprint. Carefully I search through my mind, try to remember the name of the print's owner. And then I find it.

Hiriam.

My days in District 12 haven't been wasted. I've perfected the art of memory and tracking, and of course killing. Grandmother Katniss used to take me through the fence and into the woods of 12, and there she showed me how to hunt, how to survive. Then, there was no need—my grandma was a victor, and we had all the money we could ask for. But Katniss though it was essential to teach me these ways. Immediately I began addicted to hunting, and would often sneak off into the woods. Killing always seemed to relax me.

I snap out of my reverie and glance at the footprint again. I turn and stare at the ground and soon find two more sets of prints. One I recognize as the crazy bomb boy's, but the others I have haven't seen before.

These tracks are fresh I can tell, only about five or ten minutes old.

I smile at the thought of three more deaths, just waiting to happen.

I stand up, my pickaxe in hand, and follow the tracks.

_

* * *

_

_Octavian. Look to the ground. _

Looking at my hooks I nod and crouch down.

_They were here, not twenty minutes ago._

In the backdrop I hear the stream rushing along at its lazy pace, a steady, rhythmic pattern.

_You do see?_

I nod. "Yes. The bloody tributes were here.'

Then I see something else. Barely visible, light, and almost unable to see, are another set of tracks.

_Those are fresher._

"Indeed. So what do I do now?"

_Trek onward. The tributes must stop eventually. _

I smile and stand back up. I feel my right eyes, crusted over with blood. It's steadily getting harder to see.

_Go. We have killing to do._

The scent of blood seems to surround me, and I nod.

* * *

I jump into the burrow, landing softly on my feet as Andrei and James follow. I quickly cover up the opening and we all settle inside.

"I know that you have something to say. I see it in your eyes," James says slowly.

I nod and look at both of them.

"Okay, you can't interrupt me until I'm finished. I've found something…big."

I explain my theory that the Capitol is turning tribute's fears in mutts, specifically designed to paralyze the tributes. The cameras in the rooms to watch the tributes and look for nightmares, and the 'F'…F for 'fears.' The lizard-birds, which so successfully immobilized Andrei, the giant snakes, James's bane. The boy who was pulled into the bushes after he attacked us. The other boy in the Career pack you was killed by something in the woods. All designs of the Capitol.

I pause, breathless. James and Andrei stare at me in wonder.

"Wow," Andrei finally lets out.

"Okay," James says. "It does all make sense…but why are they doing this?"

"For a bigger, better, and more exciting Games," I reply. "So that audiences in the Capitol will be pleased and not lose interest. That's why."

We sit in silence for a few moments.

"Daaamn," James mutters.

And then he stands up.

"This is big, but it doesn't change my plans. I'm leaving, and I suggest both of you do to. Good luck. It's been a pleasure being allies, but I don't want to kill you."

He climbs out of the hole, while I try to stop him.

"James! We can beat this! We can't abandon each other now!"

I follow him out of the burrow, but when I emerge I see him running back.

"James, you bastard! Get back here!" I yell, but he doesn't stop.

I drop to my knees, shivering with anger. I watch James running and running and…

Stopping.

And then Kale emerges from out of the woods, a pickaxe in his hands and a gleam in his eyes.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I stand frozen as fear as I see Kale materialize from the thick woods. James has stopped and is staring at him, body tense and rigid. Beside me, I hear Andrei climbing out of the burrow.

"Hiriam?"

Kale leaps forward, pickaxe raised, towards James, a smile cracking his tan face. But James quickly leaps to the side before the deadly weapon can strike him. He takes one of his hatchets and throws it at Kale, still mid-air.

But somersaulting through the air like an acrobat, Kale lazily grabs it and lands deftly on his feet. He smiles as James starts backing up, slowly advancing, a pickaxe and hatchet in his hands.

I'm suddenly rushing forward with my two spears, and I hear Andrei behind me. As I sprint closer toward Kale I throw my spear, and it jabs the tribute if the arm. I hear Kale cry out in pain, but then, clenching his teeth, he pulls the weapon out and laughs.

"God, what idiots you three are. You're not trained in killing like I am."

And then Kale leaps into the air and lands on top of James. He raises the pickaxe, but I rush forward before the blow can make contact. I jab my spear at Kale's back, but in his peripheral vision he's seen me and reacts before I can hit. Falling onto his back, my thrust flies right over him, and he quickly spins his legs, tripping me. I stumble and fall to the ground as Kale rises.

"See? I told you."

Kale aims his hatchet at my head while pinning James down with his powerful foot. Frantically I try to back up, but Kale slowly leans down and grabs me by the shirt.

And then I hear something whoosh through the air. I look up and see one of Andrei's bombs. It hits Kale in the chest, and he immediately staggers back. I jump back to my feet and pick up the bomb.

Which is lit.

My heart seizes up as I see the fuse burning down, fast. I raise my arm to throw it away, but suddenly I feel Kale's weight knock me down. The bomb bounces out of my grip, just out of my reach. I feel Kale beating me like he did Lucy, and I feel fury and fear combine until they become one enormous thing, a thing of power.

"Get off me, you damn tribute!"

And suddenly I am lifting Kale up off of me, all of his muscular body. I stand up, and he's still over my head. And then, with all the strength I contain, I throw him to the ground.

Behind me, I hear the bomb go off.

Kale and I are flying through the air like rag dolls, powerless to do anything. I feel a sharp pain, a sliver in my side, and everything seems like it's on fire. Then we're both falling and falling. I feel a hard thud throughout my body as I impact, pain coursing through my veins. The scene is focusing in and out, and I start to grow dizzy. I dry heave once, twice, then lay still. Everything's quiet except for my heavy pant.

No. There's something else. Another noise that's…

Kale slams into me.

All my breath disappears and the pain intensifies as he lands on top of me. Vaguely I think of how powerful Kale is, how he can stand a bomb and beatings. (everything starts growing black and the sun sparkles on my skin and the tree leaves rustle and the blue sky seem to wink at me like a thousand eyes like a kaleidoscope and the pain seems to be disappearing just like the world because everything is going black and everything is going black…)

And suddenly the crushing weight is off of me. The blackness slowly melts away and I glimpse James attacking Kale, fury in his eyes. I try to move so I can help him, but I can't. I see Andrei join in, trying to help, but Kale's so strong. I weakly crawl forward, as if I could reach Andrei and James I could save them. I pant heavily and see Kale knock James down then stun Andrei with a powerful uppercut.

And now I know it's the end.

Suddenly the darkness is back and my vision is gone. I stop my movement, feel my bruised and battered body. Everything is black, and I start to grow claustrophobic.

(pain is in my body it courses like a bolt of electricity hot and burning and everything is dark like the hide of the night except that there are no stars but only the blackness and it is never going to go away because of this and there are no winking eyes like last time and i feel all the pain that i've ever endured and it goes through me because the blackness is never going away and because the blackness is never going away…)

Noise.

From off into the woods.

A sliver of light appears through the darkness, like a dangling harvest moon. It expands and the noises grow louder, and more light appears. I can see the world again, and finally everything is light. I suck in air, clear, sweet air, and then look to up.

Octavian catapults from the trees toward where Kale stands over Andrei and James. In the light, the hooks shine and sparkle brilliantly. Almost as if they're talking.

But Octavian. How? He was dead after the explosions; we checked his pulse to make sure. How is this possible?

Octavian is suddenly next Kale. And then he slams his hooks into Kale's face.

"Bloody fool!" Octavian screams. "These tributes are MY kill!"

Immediately James and Andrei back-up. Kale, face bloody, slowly rises, caught in between a smile and a grimace.

"Ah," he says to his attacker. "You must be Octavian. I've heard much about you."

Kale lunges forward, an almost calm expression on his face. He swings his pickaxe but Octavian raises his hook before it can land. As the metals contact, there's a small spark.

Then Kale drops to the ground and somersaults backwards. Octavian dashes forward, swinging his hooks wildly. One bites into Kale's shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Bastard!" Kale spits at Octavian, then kicks him in the stomach. Octavian flies back and slams into a tree.

Out of my peripheral vision I see Andrei and James edging their way toward me. They creep forward and then help me up. My legs are still unstable and my head is aching. For a moment, blackness threatens to overpower me once more.

I hear a bloodthirsty yell and see Octavian launch himself away from the tree. He slashes his hooks at Kale, but the other tribute parries with his pickaxe. They thrust and swing at slash, always blocking, never drawing blood. A battle of the titans.

Kale ducks a blow and swings his pickaxe at Octavian's legs. The point embeds itself in the right leg, and blood is suddenly spurting out. Octavian stumbles and falls, grunting, as Kale retrieves his weapon. And then Kale, standing over him, thrusts the pickaxe downward. At the last second Octavian rolls over and the blow only grazes his side. Then, breathing heavily, Octavian grabs Kale's legs and throws him down.

Octavian crawls forward with his hooks, shimmering in the afternoon, and places them on top of Kale's stomach.

"I want to kill him!" Octavian suddenly cries out, as if talking to someone else. He stares at his hooks, a mad gleam in his eye.

"I don't bloody have time to make him suffer! Let me do it quickly, then we can have more blood!"

Kale pushes Octavian off with strong arms. The tribute rolls off of him and tumble into the grass.

"That's the thing that sets us apart," Kale says to Octavian, pinning him down. "We're both cold killers and are good at what we do. But you, sir, are mad, and that just gets in the way."

Kale reaches down and wrenches a hook from Octavian's grip, then he places it over his arm.

"Don't worry," Kale says softly. "I'll make this slow."

He slashes.

Octavian howls in pain and blood rushes out of the open wound. I can see that the arm is only attached by several veins and arteries. The blackness threatens to return.

Kale looks at the arm contemplatively. Then he reaches for it and pulls it away.

There's another shriek, and Octavian now only has one arm. Kale holds the other one in his hands triumphantly.

Behind me I suddenly hear scuttling, like the sound of millions of tiny legs moving.

"James, Andrei," I whisper. "What is that?"

Kale is stooping down, ready for the kill. The scuttling grows louder. The hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle.

A storm of black erupts from the trees. On the ground, scuttling like crabs, are hundreds of tarantula-sized spiders, black eyes gleaming, pincers clicking.

Kale turns, a bit frightened. But Octavian…his face suddenly loses all color.

"Not spiders!" He shrieks. "Anything but SPIDERS!"  
Kales turns and dashes into the woods with the hook and pickaxe. The spiders approach Octavian, eager for the blood. Suddenly they're crawling all over him, biting him and tasting his blood, tearing away flesh and eating the skin. Octavian continues to scream and writhe, but soon his whole body is covered with darkness. As the spiders feed they grow larger, and soon they start popping. Octavian's screams begin to die away, replaced by horrible moans. More spiders pop, one by one, until none are left. Then silence prevails.

All that's left of Octavian is a bleached skeleton, picked clean of all remaining flesh. A cannon goes off.

"Well," James says, breathing heavily. "At least we know he's dead _this_ time."

* * *

A/N-

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